


Wild Embers

by msmerlin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-06-27 16:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/pseuds/msmerlin
Summary: Without her boyfriend or Harry, Hermione’s return to Hogwarts had been less than ideal. For the first time since attending school she had felt entirely, and utterly alone. When Theodore Nott extends an olive branch in the form of a nightcap with some of the other returning “eighth year” students, Hermione never dreamed she would find herself questioning her relationship to Ron due to a certain blonde wizard. And She certainly never thought it possible that the same wizard might be harboring feelings for her as well.





	1. Knee Socks

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Knee Socks

* * *

Hermione leaned her chin against her palm, chocolate colored eyes scanning the opened tomb in front of her as the soft droning of Professor Binns did little to curb her mind from wandering. This time last year she had begun a rebellion that was sure to be written about in years to come in texts similar to the one open in front of her now. So much had changed in a single year. More than she had ever thought possible. And if you had asked her a year ago if she could find herself back at Hogwarts, finishing up her last year of her wizarding education while her two closest companions were off starting their careers with the newly reformed Ministry, she would have likely told you not be be daft. It was only when it became painfully apparent that the only thing she was qualified for was a entry level Ministry job or stepping into the Auror program with Harry and Ronald, she knew she needed to return.

It wasn't that she didn't find the profession admirable. Quite the contrary, she thought it ludicrously heroic that Harry and Ron wanted to help keep the new era of peace over the British Wizarding Ministry and the various Commonwealth. They had just spent the last six years fighting to keep Harry alive, in addition to themselves and half the bloody population. The idea of going back into the trenches, figuratively speaking, was not something high on her bucket list of things to accomplish before she perished.

So no, if you had asked Hermione a year ago if she would be a twenty-year-old seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she would have, without a doubt, unequivocally told you no. But fate did have a funny way of showing its hand in the most unconventional ways possible, this much she was certain of.

Hermione glanced up from her text when she heard her name followed by a rather loud throat-clearing from across the room. She sat upright immediately, the feeling of twenty sets of eyes burning into her skin as she straightening her spine until she sat rigid. "Uh.. I'm sorry, Professor. Could you repeat the question?"

"Miss Granger, being one of the most senior students in my class, I expect you to set an example for our younger students," the ghost scolded, peering at her over the ever present set of spectacles. "Perhaps Mr. Malfoy would care to enlighten us with the answer?"

* * *

Draco's decision to return to Hogwarts had been less of a choice, and more of a sentence, if you will. When facing the Wizengamot, Lucius used his only child's education as his last move on the ever rotating chessboard he had been playing. The Malfoy patriarch had chosen the losing side in the war, and this time around was unable to hide his associations. Even with Narcissa's blatant deceit to the Dark Lord, which helped Potter and company secure victory, her good deed was not enough to wash away the numerous sins her husband had committed.

Thus, death by Dementor in exchange for his son and wife's absolution was granted, under the condition that Draco devote 10 years to Ministry service post graduation from Hogwarts. The latter was a suggestion made by the curly-haired swot who sat precisely three rows up and one seat to the left of Draco. Always in the corner of his vision, swinging her legs as she listened to lectures like some fucking child. She had been present at all of the sentencing hearings of the Death Eaters and in particular, decided to speak out at the Malfoy family hearing.,offering the suggestion of forced servitude and education as a way for him to atone for his family's faults. Let Draco make right his father's mistakes, for he had committed no crime that could be sentenced beyond his family name.

Fucking cunt. She knew nothing of his sins. And she certainly knew nothing of the implications returning to school would have for him, especially considering she would still be here. Tainting him with her very presence, penetrating his mind, invading his bones.

"The Transylvanian Vampire Revolution began in the 1700's and concluded shortly before the 1800's. While being paramount for the rights of Vampires worldwide, it is often forgotten due to the Witch trails that were occuring." Gray eyes flashed to Hermione for the briefest of moments as the last few words of his answer were recited. It was brief enough that none of their fellow classmates might notice, but long enough for his eyes to flicker across her parted lips, his hand clenching in response to the primal feeling that it stirred inside him, and just as quickly as he glanced over, he looked away; back to the Professor just in time to catch the apparition's praise.

He hated himself for the bubblings of desire her felt for her, for many reasons, but the most of which being that she was everything he was taught to hate. And yet, despite years of attempting to force himself to do just that, he had come to covet her.

He waited until he was certain that she had looked away from him, Hermione's attention pulled back to the blackboard as she sought to redeem her fall from the Professor's good graces (although, it would not take much for her to sit back on that pedestal she so happily climbed each morning, now would it?) before he dared lift his eyes to her once more.

Class has been in session for nearly two months, and she showed no signs of discontent at her return. How could she fucking do this? Prance around in full regalia and pretend like everything was suddenly better because a few dark wizards were thrown in Azkaban, or executed? How could she wake up every morning, put on that bloody fucking uniform and act like everything was normal? Everyone knew that the aftermath of war was far worse than the battle. Once the bloodshed ceased, each side was finally forced to deal with their loss of loved ones, and worse, their humanity. His lips pulled back into a sneer and his quill stopped moving as his eyes ran across her.

She still wore her Gryffindor uniform every day like some haughty Prefect or Head Girl. (News Flash: Neither of them were eligible for the rank due to their age. McGonagall made sure as shit to pull them both aside to explain the absence of the ostentatious badges with their letters.) She wore same fucking jumper that hugged her breasts just a little too tightly, because she was far from being a gangly teen. The same pleated gray skirt that ended just a little too high up her thigh now and the same bloody fucking socks. Knee socks. Dark gray, with little patterns woven into the fabric. Fucking-knee-socks... What twenty year old woman in her right mind would wake up and roll a pair of thick gray knee socks on each morning before class? She had to be nineteen-twenty years old? Surely she had other hosiery options by now!

Draco had refused to even pack his uniform when he left the Manor for Hogwarts. He might be forced to come back to this reformatory for the criminally depraved (himself) and socially awkward (Granger), but he would be damned if he was going to spend another day in a uniform that looked like a god damned House Elf designed it. His eyes lingered on her legs, watching the way the pleats in the gray skirt parted over thighs, showing just a glimpse of supple skin that he knew he should not long to caress, but he was unable to look away.

* * *

Hermione could feel him staring. She always knew when he was because her skin on the back of her neck prickled in response. At first she thought it was her imagination, but over the past several weeks she had glanced across the room in response to the feeling only to find a pair of steely gray eyes burning holes into her. Lifting her hand, she brushed her curls from her neck before clamping her hand around it, fingertips pressing into the skin to soothe the ache. She knew her body's response to Malfoy's gawking was involuntary, but truth be told it did pique her curiosity.

There were only a small handful of pupils from her year that returned to Hogwarts after the war, and due to the nature of their suddenly much smaller class size the Headmistress had arranged sleeping quarters for what the school was calling 'Eighth Year' returns. Under normal circumstances Hermione would have liked the idea of being given a separate dorm so she might be able to focus on her studies further, but suddenly she was forced to share a common room with a mix from all houses, including a rather surly group of Slytherins. With Ron and Harry's absence in the new dormitory, there was no one around to ease the crushing isolation.

When class was dismissed, Hermione turned to slip her parchment and quill away in her book bag, chancing a glance up in Draco's direction, and for a second their eyes connected. The prickling feeling at the back of her neck intensified, causing her breath to pause and for the short-lived moment it almost seemed as if he was going to say something to her.

But just as quickly as it came, it went away. Draco looked away as he made a hasty escape from the classroom.

Hermione sat there a moment, watching the heavy wooden door swing shut at his less than gracious exit and her brow furrowed. They had obviously been far from friends during their previous school years, but surely things could be different now, couldn't they? She helped testify for him, and there were only a small handful of students in their year left.

Rising from her seat, she hoisted the heavy book bag over her shoulder before beginning her exit. It was nearly 2pm and History of Magic was her last class for the day. The prospect of returning to the common room seemed less than ideal, for no studying would get done, which meant she could either head to the library, or the newly remodeled Central Tower which held a particularly quiet nook that overlooked the castle grounds. Pursing her lips at the internal debate, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a soft glinting coming from Malfoy's desk.

She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one would be held up by her investigation, then Hermione moved up the aisle that separated her row from Malfoy's and to his desk. There, in the center of the wooden seat sat a thick silver ring. She might not have noticed it if it was not for the bright orange glow that poured in through the upper windows of the classroom.

Reaching out, she picked up the ring, twisting it until the face of the jewelry could be seen. She would have known who it belonged to even she had not seen who had been sitting in this particular desk, for it far to gaudy to belong to any student other than him. Although the silver was polish, it showed it's age; it was well worn, marred with scratches too deep into the precious metal for any cleaning (Magical or Muggle) to fix; a family heirloom if she had to guess. On the face of the ring a flat black stone, onyx, and embedded into the gemstone was a large M.

As she ran her index finger across the smooth surface of the stone, the corner of her bottom lip was bitten as she debated if she should return it to its owner or leave it on the desk for someone else to find. It wasn't until the sound of the heavy door opened and a particularly noisy group of second years began filtering in that she decided on the first option.

She fisted the ring in her hand as she made a hasty exit, letting her eyes drop to the floor as she passed the students who, upon realizing _the Hermione Granger_ was in the room, ceased their boisterous conversation and began to whisper with each other.

Just as she reached the door, the hand not hold holding the ring reaching for the handle, she heard one of the second years behind her.

"Um… Excuse me?"

Glancing over her shoulder, a forced half-smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Yes?"

"Are you Hermione Granger?" Clearly having been the one to draw the short end of the stick, a small raven haired Hufflepuff girl stepped forward.

"Um...Yes," Hermione replied, "at least, last time I checked I was."

The Hufflepuff girl laughed, despite Hermione's failed attempt at humor. "I thought so! My friends were too shy to ask," she explained, glancing over her shoulder to the group of girls behind her who were watching the interaction with baited breath.

Hermione nodded, glancing between the group of girls and the brave tribute who stepped forward. "Alright...well… I probably ought to get going. Professor Binns will be back to start your class soon." She lifted her hand from the door handle to give them an awkward sort of goodbye.

"Wait! We-uh.. I have a question!" the Hufflepuff said quickly as she was shoved in the back by a blonde Ravenclaw. "Um... I read in the Prophet you were dating Ron Weasley…I was just curious if he and Harry Potter will be coming to visit you?"

Oh… of course. They weren't interested in knowing she was here. They wanted to know about the boys. Her boys. The same boys everyone looked over, and no one gave the time of day until after they were all War Heros. Glancing down at her hand, her knuckles whited for a moment on the handle and a soft chuckle was let loose from her throat. "Um… Yeah. I supposed they might pop on by this year," Hermione replied before biting her bottom lip, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Oh, brilliant!" the girl replied before turning to her friends, who were suddenly falling into fits of giggles between hurried whispers.

Yanking open the door, Hermione moved to make a quick escape. Her cheeks flushed as moved down the hall quickly, shouldering past groups of second years that were making their way to their last class of the day, and as she rounded the corner to make her retreat up towards the library she careened face first into someone.

The impact sent her reeling back, stumbling over her own feet until she landed ass over tea kettle onto the stone floor, her bookbag opening and its contents scattering across the corridor. Her ink pot, thankfully, did not crush upon the impact, but the set of new quills she had purchased last week at Hogsmeade were snapped in two. "Oh shit. I'm sorry. I was in a hurry. I wasn't looking-"

"That much is obvious, Granger. I'm nearly surprised you weren't nose first in a book, per usual," came and all too familiar drawl. Theodore Nott. The polished brunette stood to her left, looking down at her with a smirk pulling at the right corner of his lips. "You alright? Or should I fetch Pomfrey to check your backside? If you're open to untrained professionals, I would offer my services, but I think Malfoy here might be first in line."

If Theo was there to her side, that meant that the only logical person she could have run into could only been one person.

"Shut up, Theo," Draco hissed, turning around to look down at the witch still sitting haphazardly in the middle of the corridor floor. He hesitated a moment, glancing up and down the hallway as if to make sure no one was watching, before his left hand was extended to Hermione.

She gulped, eyes wide as she looked at the pale hand extended to her. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she struggled to find something to say in response to his gesture. Yes, it was completely normal to help up someone who fell, but this was Draco Malfoy. The boy who had spent years practically disinfecting every surface she had touched before him. "Uh...What are you doing?" she blurted out.

Theo, clearly finding far more humor in this situation than the rest of them, tipped his head back in laughter, his hand coming up so he could dab the corner of his eye with his fingertips exaggeratedly.

"Trying to help you up, but if you'd rather make home in the middle of the corridor, by all means. " Draco lifted a single manicured brow as he leaned forward just a hair further, gesturing his palm towards her expectantly. He watched her eyes flick to his hand, debating if she should just accept his offer of help. Just as he was about to pull away, not wanting to be made the fool by someone, let alone her, Hermione reached out and placed her smaller hand in his. The response was instant; he could feel it roll across his skin like a hot summer's breeze, the source of the heat generating from where their hands curled together.

"Thank you?" Hermione replied uncertainty. "I was actually coming to find you, Malfoy." Hermione's right hand smoothed across her skirt, making sure it was flat against her thighs as she moved to collect her fallen book bag that lay at Draco's feet.

"His wet dreams have finally come true, Praise the old gods!" Theo lifted both hands towards the ceiling. "Circe, if you're listening. Please also grant his wish for a bigger prick. I'm afraid the one he came equipped with is far too small to please anyone."

Draco, having been well-practiced in ignoring Theo's antics, simply shook his head. "Ignore him. Theo's always had a bit of flare for the dramatics," he tried to explain.

"Excuse me. It is called having an affinity for theatrical endeavors," Theo corrected, his hands dropping to his sides unceremoniously as he rolled his eyes at his friend. Reaching into the breast pocket of his blazer, he withdrew his wand and with a careful swish and flick of his wrist, the spilled contents from Hermione's bag began to lift off the stone flooring and float towards her.

"Like I said...dramatics." Draco's hand curled around the strap on his own book bag. Why hadn't he thought of helping her pick up her belongings? "What did you need me for? Help studying, since clearly you have not been paying attention in class? I don't really do study partners, but I suppose I can make an exception since you're usually my only competition for top of class. It's been a bit boring with you off your usual mark."

Hermione's cheeks crimsoned as she looked away from Draco, busying herself with snatching the floating ink pots and broken quills from the air to shove them inside her bookbag. "I was actually just trying to return your ring," she explained, thrusting out her hand that was still curled around the jewelry and uncurling her fingers.

"Oh.." Gray eyes dropped to the ring that sat in her palm and he reached out, careful to pick it up without touching her. He twisted it between his fingers for a moment, watching the black stone glint in the torch lit hallway before he slipped it onto his ring finger.

Theo lifted his hand, smothering his smile as he watched them like a spectator to Quidditch, except this time he was just waiting for Draco to open his mouth and say the next idiotic thing to his long-time crush.

"You left it in your chair. I figured you might want it back," Hermione explained, pulling her extended hand back to rub her palm against her hip. As they all stood there in awkward silence for half a minute, Draco's eyes fixed on the ring, Theo looking between the two of them, and Hermione awaiting some sort of gratitude from Malfoy, she realised how utterly stupid it was to expect a thank you. "I should go. Better get to studying since I'm clearly, how did you put it, off my mark?"

Draco winced at her words, and when she slipped between the small opening between Theo and himself, he didn't move to look at her.

"See you around, Granger," Theo called in a singsong after the retreating witch, his fingertips drumming a playful beat against his chin as he craned his neck to watch her disappear down the corridor, before he glanced over to Draco who was standing like a statue next to him. "Study partners?" he questioned, raising his brows.

"Shut up…"

"What? No it was real smooth." Theo laughed, beginning to double-step after Draco who had decided to make his own retreat from the encounter in the opposite direction of Hermione's. "I mean….what witch doesn't love a backhanded compliment? Especially one delivered by her best friend's adversary." As he reached Draco, his arm went out to drape over the blonde's shoulder. "I mean it: real great attempt. Bra-fucking-vo."

Hermione took the stairs two at a time, her heart thundering beneath her chest from the pace in which she was climbing the tower. Off her mark? Is that really what he thought? Sure she had been a bit distracted, but certainly not off her mark! Hermione' cheeks tinted a further shade of crimson at the thought and as she made it to her favored nook in the tower, she dropped her bookbag on the window seat before she moved onto her tiptoes, pulling herself up onto the deep ledge.

The outside of her left thigh pressed against the cold glass as she leaned back on the window frame, straightening her spine as her palms ran over her face as she replayed the conversation in her mind. She and Malfoy had not spoken in months, not since before his trial, and it was not exactly like they were friends before that, but the insult hurt worse than it should. Partially because she knew it was true; she was not giving her classes her full attention. She felt lost, slightly alone and like she was delaying starting her life post-Hogwarts because she had not a fucking clue who she was. But it also hurt because part of her did not want him to be the one to say it. Because somewhere, deep down inside, the feelings she had for Draco, the same feelings that she had forced away for years, began to bubble.

Leaning forward, she opened her bookbag, pushing past the broken quills and spilled papers. She withdrew her History of Magic textbook and pulled it into her lap. She'd show him. She was far from off her mark. And as she sat there, thighs pressed together, knees bent to hold up the book, her fingers played idly with her gray socks, letting the smooth fabric run underneath her fingertips as she did everything in her power to forget the feeling of Draco's eyes on her, and how when he helped her up from the floor, only moments ago, the same same feeling had rippled across her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was never supposed to happen, but I stumbled across an AMAZING Poet who inspired this fic from her beautiful work. (See Nikita Gill and devour her work like I have done). The title for the fic is actually a collection of poems she has written that I am drawing the most inspiration from. This is probably going to be an every other week schedule while I finish up Right the First Time. I hope you enjoyed the first (short) chapter and come back to see what else I have in store for you.
> 
> As always, I love you Islandgurl777. She is more than just an amazing beta. She is my kindred spirit.


	2. Library of Faults

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Library of Faults

* * *

Draco's fingers drummed a soft, but steady, rhythm against the oak tabletop of the library, steely gray eyes scanning the transfiguration text opened before him. He had reread the same paragraph for what seemed like the sixth time, and each time his eyes scanned the text he was no closer to understanding how or when using Aqua Eructo Charm; the water was actually routed from the closest mineral source rather than created from air. Fixating his eyes on the top of the paragraph, he narrowed his vision, trying his best to drown out his companions' conversation. Much to his dissatisfaction, he might have had better luck shutting them up if he had shoved wadded up balls of parchment down their throats.

"It was brilliant. Draco was in finest form because it was only after telling her he did not-" Theo lifted his hands to provide air quotes around his next words, adding emphasis to the complete arse that had been the youngest Malfoy a day earlier, "-do study partners that he told her she had been off her mark."

Blaise, who was presently leaned back on the two rear legs of his chair with his loafered feet crossed on the desk near Draco's inkwell, glanced up from the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_ with a manicured brow peaked. "He told Granger she was off her mark?" he repeated, and when Theo replied with an overly enthusiastic head nod with wide eyes, Blaise clicked his tongue as he shut the magazine to lay it flat on his lap. "Granger does not seem the type to let insults turn into passion. I highly doubt that method would work, Draco. She really seems more of a small romantic gesture type witch. You really ought to read this magazine sometime, you know, it's not all facial creams and beauty spells."

"She looked like she might set him on fire if given the chance," Theo quipped, leaning over the table to lace his fingers under his chin as hazel eyes bounced between Blaise and Draco. "The best part is that she was returning his bloody ring."

"That disgustingly dated heirloom?"

"Yes, the onyx bauble from the crypt, you know the one. So here she was, trying to be nice to him and all he managed to do was insult her."

It was as if Draco could feel the vein in his forehead throb, growing tenser and more prominent with each exchange the two had. He knew he had screwed up when he had confessed his feelings of attraction for Hermione to the pair whilst on the train, hoping to gain their support in his attempts to avoid the curly haired witch, but obviously they had other plans this year. Like slowly torturing him until he Avada'd himself.

"It's alright though, before the blonde gentle-beast helped her off the floor, I got a look up her skirt and-"

"Stop it!" Draco snarled, his fist slamming against the text causing the shelves surrounding him to reverberate the sound back. "Merlin's saggy sack, do you two ever fucking stop?!"

* * *

The library, her home away from home. What felt like her only solace in this castle since her closest friends were gone. Hermione normally loved the library. She would walk in and the smell of aging parchment and binding glue would send chills down her arms in anticipation of digging into the various ancient texts that Madam Pince had tucked away in a special stack for her. Except, this year. This year every bleeding time she went to the library he was here. His blond hair peeking through the bookstacks as he sat in the very section she found best for her studying. A small four person table in the back right of the library, between books on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy.

Most of the time she would wander to the section, her body trained to walk the well-worn path, only to find him there with his belongings spread out over the table. Which, of course, forced her to use the single desk tucked under the window at the end of the Ancient Runes letter T aisle, and for most this would not be the end of the world, but for Hermione it was disastrous. The table was far too small, the chair was uncomfortably padded and the desk leaned just a tad to the right which caused her quill to roll off the tabletop if not properly supervised.

However, despite the desk stealer, and the fact that she was forced to study alone because Harry and Ron were not there, when walking into the library Friday afternoon, she was glad to be in the familiar place. Madam Pince already had her stack of Conjuration texts available that would help supplement her textbook while she finished the last of her paper for McGonagall.

With two books tucked under her arm, and the third open in her other hand. Hermione moved down the path, chocolate brown eyes scanning the words of Agrippa Mostafa, a world renowned Transfigurationist who specialized in conjuring wine, ales and various spirits. She moved silently, careful to avoid the carts at the end of aisles that contained books Madam Pince magicked to put themselves away. As she wound her way back towards _her_ desk, she didn't have a chance to notice the white blonde hair, nor the two other voices carrying through the bookstacks, until she had moved into the small clearing just in time to be pulled from her trance by Malfoy's fist slamming against the table.

"Merlin's saggy sack, do you two ever fucking stop?!"

Hermione's movement was immediately halted at the outburst. From this position she was, thankfully, behind Malfoy who was gripping his quill so hard it looked like it might snap in two, and when she heard him inhale deeply, ready to lay into Blaise and Theo, who were facing her, she began to back up out of the study nook. She was not prepared to deal with a tantruming toddler, and she was certainly not prepared to talk with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.

"Now, Draco. Language," Theo quipped, clicking his tongue at the blond which clearly only added more fuel to the blazing fire.

"Piss off, Theo," he snapped, slamming his quill against the table before slamming his textbook shut. "I've been listening to your drivel since before breakfast and I am not inclined to ignore it further. I get it. I insulted Gr-"

Blaise tossed the magazine onto the desk, sending it skittering over in front of Draco as he dropped his feet from the desk. "Granger!" he interrupted Draco, having caught sight of the bookworm the moment she sauntered into their study area. "Come here for a moment, will you? We might need a witness in case Draco goes positively feral. You will testify on our behalf, won't you? I've heard you made it a bit of a habit lately… testifying that is."

"Shut up," Draco hissed in a whisper, sending a warning kick under the table to Blaise's shin.

In response Blaise let out a soft curse, scooting back from the table abruptly. "Merlin, I am just asking her to come over. Clearly physical violence was not needed," he whispered back before looking up to Hermione who was watching them with what appeared to be a mixture of confusion and apprehension. "Don't worry, Theo and I will keep him at bay. Come join us."

Hermione's fingers curled instinctively around the spine of the book, her nails scratching lightly against the surface. "Look, I'm not interrupting whatever… This is," she gestured in front of her, her head giving a small left to right shake. She could not help but notice how Draco's spine went rigid at the first mention of her name and she couldn't help but feel her own straighten in response. It was obvious that she made him uncomfortable, even though she could feel him stare at her in class. "I didn't realise the desks were taken."

"Oh nonsense. There's four seats, and three of us," Theo interjected quickly, waving his hand to the open chair opposite chair next to him, which was directly in front of Draco. "While my gifts are more for potions than mathematics, any buffoon could see we have plenty of room available for one more. Especially one who might be able to help me make heads or tails of this Transfiguration essay." Flashing her a charming girn, Theo reached over and pulled back the chair before patting the cushion playfully. "Come now, join us, won't you? Draco is simply dreadful company, and Blaise atrocious in the subject."

"It's true. I'm absolute rubbish. It's really fortunate I'm as good looking as I am, that way I don't have to rely on my skill," Blaise confirmed as he examined his cuticles before buffing his nails against the shoulder of his sweater while tossing a wink her direction.

Hermione hesitated, her shoulder brushing against the bookshelf as she eyed Theo and Blaise skeptically, chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to weigh the validity of their claims. She knew that Theo was often in the top of the class, not often far behind herself or Draco, but Blaise claiming to earn poor marks was a stretch. They were all in N.E.W.T. level classes, and she could not be certain, but she was sure his marks were far from the back of the pack.

"Stop. She's clearly busy and doesn't want to join us," Draco spoke up, shooting daggers at Theo and Blaise. "Isn't that right, Granger?" It was only then that he allowed himself to chance a glance over his shoulder to the curly haired witch, and try as he might, he was not able to prevent himself from letting his gaze wander across her frame. The short skirt, those fucking knee socks and the crisp white button down with her tie loose around her neck. Merlin, help him. She was trying to drive him absolutely wild. Just as his gaze wandered over the soft swells of her breasts through the top buttons of her shirt he averted his eyes, closing them to cleanse himself of her image (or preserve it for later, depending on who you were asking).

She felt his words cause her hackles to raise; who did he think he was? He had no right to tell her what her plans were (or were not!). Just because he had been halfway decent to her this year did not give him the privilege to dictate where she could or could not sit. She watched as he looked her up and down, as if assessing her before rudely turning his gaze away and it was in that moment her mind was made up. If he was so bothered by her, well he really ought to get used to it because she was not going anywhere. They were in _her_ study space and Theo was right, there was an empty chair. "Thank you Theodore and Blaise. I think _I will_ join you this evening," she announced crisply before crossing the small space. She let her books drop in front of the empty chair with a loud thud on the table, causing Draco's inkpot to rattle in response. "If you both are working on essays, where is your parchment?" Hermione questioned as she carefully sat down in the seat, hands tucking her skirt underneath her thighs as she did.

"Oh, right. Well, see I've already finished. Ages ago," Theo remarked off handedly, his hand waving in front of his face dismissively before his index finger came to rest against his angular cheek and thumb under his jawline as he leaned on his elbow, an impish grin across his features. "I am here for moral support, and of course, to offer my witty banter to brighten Draco's perpetually dark cloud."

"Right…" Hermione side-eyed Theodore before turning her chocolate colored eyes over to Blaise and she lifted her brow in a silent question as she opened the first text at the top of her small stack.

"I like to work it out in my head, you know, really run the theories before I put ink to parchment. I've got the first bit done..." Blaise lied, tapping his finger against his temple as he put his loafered feet down the ground, scooting his chair into the table more. "But tell you what, Granger. If you show me yours, I'll show you mine. It's always polite to let a lady go first, isn't that right, Theo?"

"Absolutely, The pureblood chivalry might be dead as a winter elm with Draco, but Blaise and I prefer tradition," Theo encouraged.

Draco cupped his hand against his brow, trying his best to divert his gaze away from Hermione, who was a mere two feet from him across their narrow table. Clearing his throat at Blaise's innuendo he opened up his textbook once more.

"Oh. Sure if you want," Hermione replied, obviously not noticing the exchange of looks between Blaise and Theo, and when she bent to get into her book bag, Blaise rubbed his palms together wickedly. "I know Professor McGonagall requested five feet, but I found that was not nearly enough to fully cover the subject of Conjuration. I'm at nearly seven feet now and expect to go another foot or two," she explained as she pulled the thick roll from her bag and unraveled it between her and Theo's seats.

"Draco...how big is yours? Are you nearly eight as well?" Theo questioned, his tongue touching the tip of his canine tooth, and when a swift kick was delivered to him below the desk, courtesy of his blonde companion, he hissed in pain before attempting to cover it with a well placed cough, his hand going to to rub the sting from his shin.

"Six feet. I don't find the need to drabble on in essays," Draco replied brusquely, steely gray eyes narrowing at Theo who shrugged innocently before he chanced a glance over to Hermione, just for a second before he looked back at his book, his quill scratching against the parchment next to him as he wrote a quote from their text into his essay.

Hermione slid her parchment in front of Blaise, rolling her eyes at Draco's words. Just like him, always having some condescending remark. "Where's yours, Blaise? I'd be happy to peer edit," she offered, holding out her hand expectantly.

Blaise looked at the thick roll of parchment in his hand, his smile faltering just slightly at the realisation that Granger was actually wanting him to read her work. Shit. "I...uh.. Left it in the dorm room," he said slowly, glancing over to Theo who was smiling at him from behind a well placed hand over his mouth. "Darn it… I don't want to keep you from finishing-"

"Oh don't worry. You can review mine and I'll finish my research. I'm interested to hear your feedback, even if you think you are rubbish. I'd love to know the thoughts on my assumptions about Conjuration abilities not being tied to magical family lines from the perspective of a Pureblood wizard. While I am hoping not to be offensive, I am hoping to point out the inconsistencies in our text."

"Splendid…. I'll get started," Blaise gritted out through clenched teeth and when Hermione turned her attention to the large text open in front of her, Blaise took his opportunity to toss a sickle from his pocket at the top of Theo's head, making sure to throw is as hard as he could without drawing attention to himself.

And this was how Hermione found herself, studying in a somewhat comfortable silence at a table full of Slytherins. Something that, under different circumstances, would have had her balking at the very idea. Theo was idly flipping through the magazine, occasionally asking Hermione's opinion on an article (Like if Witches really did enjoy hand holding over a good snog). Blaise, despite his hesitation, dutifully reviewing her essay and Draco, stealing glances at her across the table with a heated stare that felt like a mixture between hatred and lust, the same kind that prickled the skin on the back of her neck and caused her thighs to push together.

* * *

The rest of the hour went smoother than the first one went, which he was thankful for. Blaise and Theo, it seemed, were on their best behavior with Granger present. Despite being apprehensive about having her at their table, it had turned out a bit better than he had assumed. Although, he was sure she was here under the bullshit pretense that McGonagall gave the 'eighth year' class at start of term. House unity, friendships, blah blah blah, bullshit.

Tapping his quill against his inkpot, he carefully laid it across the top of his parchment before rising, his arms going above his head to pop his spine back into place before he moved to push his chair into the table.

"Where you going?" Blaise asked, one fist under his chin while his other hand held the parchment aloft from the table. The tone he took was quiet clear: if I am having to stay here and read this fucking essay, you absolutely cannot leave.

"I need to find a reference to 13th century transfiguration," he replied flatly, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. "Unless of course you happen to know one off the top of your head, Zabini? In which case, I will gladly take your quote now instead of searching through the stacks."

"Oh, why didn't you ask earlier. I've a great one, here just a moment," Blaise replied, bending down to grab his book bag off the floor. He pulled out a small piece of parchment, and he snatched Hermione's quill from across the table before jotting down a quick note and he held it out for his friend.

Draco reached out, taking the parchment between his index and middle finger before carefully opening the folded over paper to reveal the remark of _'Suck my cock.'_ written in the beautifully elegant script. Folding up the parchment once more, Draco carefully made the rough paper into a small square before flicking it across the table at Blaise who sat with a far too smug grin. "Helpful, I'll be sure to mention this particular text to your mother when I meet her for tea." Turning his back to the table, he began down the aisle, going deeper into the back of the library.

When he made it to the row he knew contained a couple well used references on Transfiguration before the 17th century, he finally allowed his hackles to drop, taking a second to breathe for the first time since she had joined their table. His hands rose, going up to press against his face, pushing stars into his eyes as he tried collected himself. Blaise and Theo knew what effect it was going to have on him, having her sit there across the table, being so fucking close he could smell her floral perfume. It was bad enough they shared every damn class, but now to have her invading his thoughts and physical space while he was trying to study with her incessant talking and the little sounds she made as she chewed her bottom lip when she was lost in thought. Leaning to the side, his shoulder hit the bookstacks first, the soft leather from the volumes of _Mastering the Art of Transfiguration_ pressing into his skin through his soft cashmere jumper. It was only when the steady thump of footsteps echoed off the books around him did he snap from his daydream of the various ways he could finally shut her up given the opportunity (none of which he would ever admit to, especially in present company). "Fuck off, will you? I am really not in the mood for more childish humor," he sighed frustratedly.

"That's a first one." Hermione's voice cut through the quiet like a shooting winter breeze, running from top of his head down to his toes. Icing the fire that had been burning only seconds ago. "I've been called a lot of things, even by you, but a comedian is new. Don't worry though, I'll try my best to contain my humor, Malfoy."

Fuck. Even when they weren't present, Theo and Blaise both managed to make him look like a total arse. Draco's hands moved to quickly smooth back his hair from his forehead, trying to compose his disheveled look, before spinning around to look at Hermione at the end of the aisle where she trailed her index finger across the spine of the row of books to her left, her tongue poking out between her lips as her chocolate eyes ran over the titles with a look of pure curiosity that only succeeded in causing his heart race once more.

"What do you want, Granger?" Draco questioned, his expression void of any emotion. Apathetic even, like he did not give a shit about what she was doing there. He'd mastered this look years ago, carefully masking himself off from the world around him during the beginnings of war. It took near-expert levels of discontentment with his life for him to figure out that if he just did not display his feelings, he could lie about them and no one would be any wiser. Not even his mother.

Hermione's head turned at his question, her tongue darting out to run across her bottom lip, noting how despite his cooled exterior, she could see a slight tremble in his fingers before quickly hiding them in his trousers pockets. "I was coming to help you, actually," she began, her hand dropping to smooth her shirt on her abdomen as she moved slowly down the row closer to him.

Draco's steely gaze ran over her figure as she moved towards him. Girls like her were dangerous. They were born in a storm, they had lightning in their souls, thunder in their hearts and chaos so deeply embedded in their bones, a single glance would steal the breath from his lungs. The turmoil from her hurricane would destroy him, because without her present, he was pining for her like a sick puppy, but with someone like her her, he would lose everything. He knew this the first moment he realised he had feelings for her. Granger represented a danger far worse than the likes of any Dark Lord, or Death Eater. She represented the years of lies he had been told, and the realisation that Muggleborns were not actually the spineless scum he was taught to believe. She represented the truth, and that scared him more than anything else had previously.

"I don't recall asking for your assistance," he replied coolly, leaning back on the bookshelf as she walked past him, his head cocking to the side as he watched her skirt sway with each step she took, allowing himself to partake in appraising the milky skin on the back of her thighs before he pushed off the shelf. Tearing his eyes away from her, he turned his his back to her, his hand going out to pull the closest tome off the shelf.

* * *

Hermione knew this was a bad idea, offering assistance to Malfoy, but when he said he was looking for references, well her inner bibliophile never listened to reason. Hence why when Theodore offered the slightest bit of encouragement for her to go assist the blond prick, she happily got up and went after him. Telling herself that he wouldn't be that bad, right? I mean he helped her off the floor two days earlier, and even left a set of new quills on her desk in Arithmancy that very morning because all of hers had been snapped in half when she took her tumble. And yes, despite his prick attitude only moments ago when she sat at the table, she held a soft spot for wanting to help those in need. Even if they didn't realise they needed her help.

"I don't recall asking for your assistance."

At his words, her bottom lip was bitten, her hand pausing on spine of a book. "Why do you do that, Malfoy?" she questioned.

"Do what?" he returned, frowning as he glanced over his shoulder to watch her spin around to face him. Silver-gray eyes locked on hers. Those chocolate brown eyes, so rich and liquid, like syrup. It was almost as of he could pour them over ice cream and partake in the warmth and richness they had to offer.

Hermione let her weight rest against the bookshelf as she shouldered into it, her fingertips running the length of the pages as she watched Draco. "Do something nice, like you're a decent person, and then act like you regret it hours later. It's like you cannot let me forget you are the same boy who used to call me names and pull my hair."

Draco scoffed at her words, his well-worn sneer tugging at his lips as he casually flipped open the book in his hand, fingertips dancing across the pages as he scanned the text. "Well clearly your imagination is running rampant with your memories of our shared youth. I would have never pulled your hair. The second my hand came anywhere near that rat's nest it would have taken ahold and sucked me in like Devil's snare."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," she rolled her eyes, reaching behind her to pull another text from the shelf, stacking it on top of the one in her arms. "I would like to think after all we have been through we are well past this."

"Past this?" he repeated.

"Yes, past this. Aren't we both mature enough to be able to co-exist without you feeling the need to keep whatever walls you put up to protect your delicate sense of humanity?"

She half expected him to turn on her and give her a tongue lashing like the second coming. She expected him to retort and call her names, but what she did not expect was for him to laugh. His chuckle was smooth as silk, causing the hairs on the back of her arms to stand on end.

* * *

Keep his walls up? She knew nothing about him! How dare she jump to conclusions. He had spent years carefully erecting these walls, so he could protect himself! Was he supposed to just let them down because she claimed he was being too mean?

"You know nothing about me, Granger," Draco replied, roughly shoving the book her hand been holding back in the shelf and he turned to face her, drawing up to his full height as he looked at her from across the aisle. They were less than two feet apart, and the proximity she was to him made his heart thump wildly, but he kept his face free of emotion as best he could. "You think I'm supposed to be nice to you because of what we've been through? Because we came back to finish our schooling? This shouldn't be a shock to you, Granger, seeing as you were the brainchild behind my sentencing, but I was forced here."

"Would you have rather been in Azkaban?" she questioned frankly. "Because despite our tumultuous past, I was not keen knowing that if no one spoke to your family's benefit, you would have ended up there."

His mouth opened, but when her question sunk in, pushing past the initial anger/lust mixture she induced in him, he quickly shut it. Silver eyes narrowed on her. She was right; without her help he most certainly would have spent the better part of his young adulthood behind bars. He would have been branded a criminal instead of a 'confused child'.

"What do you want from me?" he questioned, his fists balling in his pockets.

"For starts, I'd like you to stop acting like showing any sort of kindness to me is a mistake," she began. He noted how when she lifted her chin defiantly toward him and tucked her hand behind her ears, her fingers trembled, and her cheeks crimsoned just slightly. Part of him was elated by this, while another cursed himself for getting excited. His desire for her was a contradiction he was not sure he would ever be able to combat.

"Granger." Her last name poured off his tongue like the the finest distilled Fire Whiskey, burning down to her core until unfamiliar flames of passion licked their way up her throat, and he took a step forward, his hand reaching out to rest against the bookshelf beside her head.

When he stepped forward, her voice caught in her throat like a chocolate frog, bobbing up and down as she struggled to keep her own 'game face' up. As their eyes connected she could see his walls crumbling, the ones he carefully erected since the beginning of term. "Malfoy," she managed to return, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

"I-"

"There you two are!" Theo's voice broke through their tension, and whatever moment had been about to occur was whisked away instantly.

It was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown on them and nearly instantly he recoiled from Hermione and backed to the other side of the aisle, taking a book with him as he did to make it appear as if that had been his intent the whole time.

* * *

"Madam Ponce," Theo began as he gestured behind him to the front of the library.

"Pince," Draco corrected immediately, his eyes rolling despite himself, for this was obviously not the first time he had heard the error of her name.

"Yes, Pincer, whatever," the brunette wizard waved off casually. "She is closing up the library. Said something about leaving for the night. To be honest, I was not really listening. She's got this whole mole situation on her chin that is rather distracting," he explained, shrugging. "Regardless, we are being asked to vacate the premises. So I've come to act as your harbinger and collect you both."

Hermione shook her right wrist until a thin delicate watch upon her wrist dangled beneath the cuff of her button down and she lifted it up to verify the time. Merlin, it really was near closing, which meant the two hours she had planned to finish up her essay were wasted. "Thank you, Theodore." She flashed a small half grin at the bold wizard at the end of the aisle before glancing over to the blonde across from her. "Malfoy, these should help you finish up your work." She thrust the set she had been holding against his chest before moving away from him. Her hands rubbed against her skirt as she moved to pass Theodore, trying to wipe away the sweat that had built up on her palms.

As she rounded to the table, she found that Blaise had already taken his leave, but prior to his exit he had neatly rolled up her parchment and even returned the twine around it. The rolled parchment lay on top of much smaller piece of paper that, from what she could tell with her brief glance, contained his notes on her work. As she began to pack a smile tugged on the corners of her mouth, and she took care to tuck Blaise's in her bag for review later. Despite his obvious hesitation, he had provided feedback, which meant that quite possibly for the first time in her academic career at Hogwarts, she might actually have had a semi-productive study session. And with a member of the Slytherin house to boot. This fact could not help but feel more than slightly comical to her.

It was only seconds into her packing that Malfoy and Theodore followed her over to the table, speaking in hushed tones until Malfoy stalked away to collect his things with a rather sour look on his face. Like he just lost an argument that Theodore was only too happy to gloat about.

"So, Granger. Will you be joining us?" Theo questioned from his spot beside the bookstacks.

"Joining you?" Hermione hoisted her book bag onto her shoulder, obviously perplexed by the invitation on more than one level. For one, why would he be inviting her anywhere, and secondly, who was 'us'?

"Yes. Our nightcap up in the East Tower. We do it nearly every Friday as a means to celebrate making it through the mediocrity of the week," he explained as if the idea of _not_ finishing the school week off with a collective meeting of the minds over a shared alcoholic beverage was absolutely appalling.

Hermione glanced over to Malfoy, who despite having his trademark sneer on his face only seconds ago was watching her through his blond eyelashes expectantly as he slowly packed away his things (including the books she had shoved in his arms moments ago). "You want me to have a drink with you?"

"Yes, but don't make a spectacle about it," Theodore began, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets as he smirked at the befuddled witch. "It's truly nothing exceptional. Just Blaise, Draco, Pansy and myself up in an empty observatory sharing a bottle of Fire Whiskey. Occasionally we can pull Daphne from her books to join us, but lately she has been so wrapped up she can't be bothered. A female presence to balance us out would be welcomed," he explained as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"You said Pansy drinks with you. You already have your _female balance_ ," Hermione retorted, her hand coming up to rest on the strap of her bag.

"Parkinson? She's far from a lady, Granger." Theodore laughed, his head tipping back as the notion. "She actually might have a bigger cock than all of us." When Hermione's cheeks only crimsoned and her mouth opened to form a small 'o' at his statement, his laughter only grew louder. Clearly Granger had not spent enough time around the female equivalent to Blaise long enough to know her.

"It's a metaphorical cock," Malfoy interrupted quickly as he snapped his messenger bag shut. "...I'm sure you know she's not a man, but in case you wanted...to know… it's not real. It's...uh.."

"Metaphorical," Hermione finished, her cheeks tinting even further pink when she noticed Malfoy stumbling over his words to explain the make-believe penis his friend possessed. She averted her gaze when Malfoy moved past her to make his way from the library.

"Sure, her _metaphorical cock_ ," Theodore agreed, leaning back against the stacks to make room for Draco to pass as he hurried from the conversation. "Regardless of what type of package she might or might not contain in her knickers, we are tired of Draco here being the closest thing to female we have in our circle. So say you'll join us and I can let Daphne know she's off the hook for tonight," he propositioned, a charming smile flashing at the curly haired witch.

"Sure," she replied hesitantly, glancing down at the toes of her flats before up to Theodore, and nearly instantly she regretted her decision. Draco had paused his retreat to just behind the row they were in front of, his blond hair peeking through the shelves of books and at her agreement to join their little midnight club, he seemed to double his efforts to leave the library.

Only moments ago they had been on the verge of having an actual conversation, and she could not help but feel as if he had been about to share something more important than his hatred for her. And if that was the case, why did he immediately flee? She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the confusion that had seemed to surround her interactions with Malfoy over the past several weeks.

"Splendid! Be ready by ten in the common room," Theo said briskly and he straightened his posture as he made to follow Draco from the library. Just as he was about to leave the small study space, he paused mid-step, leaning back, and he eyed Hermione from head to toe, making sure to exaggerate his surveying of her. "Oh and lose the uniform. School girl chic is not in this season."

Hermione looked down at her outfit, her brow knitting and when she looked up Theodore was already gone, whistling a happy tune as he made his way from the darkening library.

* * *

"Merlin, slow down, Draco. I am not bred for physical endurance," Theo huffed as he jogged to catch up with Draco, who was nearly to their common room in the dungeons. Once falling into step beside his, his hand rose up, dramatically wiping his brow.

"What the bloody fuck do you think you're doing, Theo?" Draco snapped, glancing behind himself to make sure Granger had not followed them before halting his movement in the middle of the empty hallway. "Why did you invite Granger?"

"I'm thinking I'd like to see what Granger hides beneath those sweaters of hers, and if a little Fire Whiskey will loosen her up, then so be it," Theo replied nonchalantly, glancing over his shoulder to his friend before spinning on his heel. "I'm also thinking that you don't have balls big enough to invite her, so someone had to take the leap."

"She isn't some game, Theo!" Draco replied crisply, his voice cutting like ice through the dungeons. He knew Theo well enough by now he was was attempting to play some sort of matchmaker for him. He had done it fifth year when Draco expressed an interest in Tracey Davis, and again in sixth year when Blaise fancied some seventh year Ravenclaw, Olivia Sickleworth.

"She most certainly is not," Theo agreed. "But if she was, you'd be losing."

Losing? "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Draco demanded, frowning when Theo gave him a smirk before spinning on his heel and beginning back down the hallway. "Theo," Draco called out, his hand tightening it's hold on the strap of his messenger bag. "What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?" he called out after his friend as he watched him saunter down the hallway with a knowing smile cast over his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give credit, where credit is due, Malfoy's thoughts about Hermione can be directly pulled from the quote below:  
> Girls like her were born in a storm. They have lightning in their souls. Thunder in their hearts. And chaos in their bones. - Nakita Gill
> 
> The response I got from the first was fantastic. I hope you all stick around to see how this plays out.


	3. Whiskey Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Whiskey Nights

* * *

Draco leaned against the wall in the common room, arms crossed over his chest in a look that told the rest of the inhabitants inside the common room that he was not in the mood for polite conversation. No, far from it. He had spent the two hours between leaving the library until now showering and fretting over actually having to spend an evening in the presence of Hermione Granger. His friends were only slightly aware of the amount of anxiety this was causing him. He was certain Blaise thought it hilarious (mainly because the wizard told him so, in literally the same words) and Theo's passive indifference regarding the whole situation was rather unnerving.

They both knew about her testifying on his behalf, but they didn't know about what had happened less than a year ago in his house. How he identified her and Weasley to his aunt, too weak to deny their identity. How he was forced to stand across the room as she was tortured, and although her clothing did well to hide her scars, he knew they were there. Across her neck and collarbone, forever etched into her skin, were reminders of a time where he had been less than. A time where the world was upside down and he was trying to survive the worst of it. A time where he was nothing but a fucking coward.

His hands clenched in response to the vile memories that began to flood back, and as his constant battle with self loathing began to rear its ugly head, he heard the girls' dormitory door open. The squak unique to that door in this common room (despite numerous attempts from students, faculty and house elves to fix it) vanished his thoughts of the past instantly.

Straightening his spine, Draco pulled himself to his full height as he watch Hermione exit the dormitory. He watched as she surveyed the common room, too-large chocolate brown eyes betraying her own emotions to reveal she felt equally nervous about agreeing to this. Good. She should be fucking nervous. Theo, Blaise and Pansy were far from being anything intimidating, but he? He was a fucking monster who had an unnatural fixation on her, the forbidden fruit.

Clearing his throat loudly, the Hufflepuffs in the corner of the room who had been devouring stacks upon stacks of sweets, smuggled from the kitchen between fits of giggles, silenced at the cutting sound, and when Hermione turned to catch sight of him, he watched as a careful mask of bravery was set before she crossed the room towards him. Always the little lion, wasn't she?

As she crossed the room to him, he used the opportunity to run his eyes across her figure. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans, undoubtedly Muggle based on the cut and the tightness around her hips, showing off the supple curves usually hidden underneath their school robes. And her top, a plain maroon v-neck that ended just a tad lower than what should be considered acceptable, not that he minded of course. This outfit was decidedly better than her school uniform. More fitting, allowing him to further imagine the soft curves of her body he secretly wished he could learn in a more intimate setting.

"I was looking for Theo. Sorry," she said softly upon her approach.

"Sorry to disappoint," Draco replied flatly. "He and Blaise went early to let Pansy know you'd be accompanying us this week. I was given the duty of escorting you to the room."

* * *

The moment she laid eyes on Draco, still dressed in the crisp black button-down and black trousers with a blazer tucked under his arm, she felt entirely underdressed. When Theo told her not wear her uniform she didn't think that meant she needed to be dressed like she was attending a funeral or job interview. Pureblood customs were not something she was entirely familiar with, mainly because the only Pureblood family she was well enough acquainted with was not exactly one to follow the strict customs that the other families seemed well in-tune with.

Come to think of it, she had never seen any of the Slytherin students from her year wear anything but more formal attire when outside of their school uniforms. Suits, button-downs, blazers, pencil skirts, blouses, and shoes to match. She could not help but wrinkle her nose at the idea of Malfoy wearing a pair of jeans. Would he even own a pair? Merlin, that would be a sight to behold wouldn't it? The Prince of Posh wearing Muggle attire.

"You mean to warn her I'd be coming?" Hermione questioned, unable to keep an unintended sharpness from her tone. Pansy Parkinson was not exactly Hermione's biggest fan, this much had been clear during their previous years at school together. Hell, Blaise had not exactly been keen on her either, but obviously at least part of the Slytherin inner circle of friends was trying to make amends for years of school-aged torment. War did funny things to people. It made lions into sheep, snakes into dragons, and in the case of the boy on the cusp of manhood before her, it made him look at her the same way Ron used to during sixth year. Like his feelings for her were in a foreign language and he needed a Rosetta Stone to decipher them.

"No," he returned quickly, perhaps a little too eager to correct her accusation. "They were reminding her to play nice, if you insist on knowing." He swept his hand in front of him towards the common room door, just over her left shoulder, and the apathetic look he held in the library began to set over his features. "We ought to leave unless your habit of running late to things extends over to your extra-curricular activities."

"I was late once this year, thank you very much," Hermione defended, chocolate brown eyes rolling before she side-stepped out of Malfoy's path to the door. "Lead the way, shepherd," she teased, her brows raising expectantly towards the blond who did not instantly move once she did. Instead, she could feel his eyes burning across her skin, making her pulse race in response.

With Draco leading the way from the Dungeons up to the East Tower, Hermione fell into an easy step next to him, making certain to keep her distance so they did not so much as brush arms while walking in silence. Only the sound of their footsteps echoed across the stone corridors.

"So does she ever do that?" Hermione questioned when the silence became too unbearable, glancing over to Draco as they began to ascend the last staircase of the tower. Her cheeks flushed a light pink as the cold autumn air creeped through the castle walls.

"What?" Draco looked over to Hermione as he stopped walking, his brow knitting in careful confusion as he tried to figure out what exactly her question was pertaining to, considering the last ten minutes they had not uttered a single word to one another. Clearly he had the same issue as her: a wandering mind.

"Pansy," Hermione explained as she slowed down to a stop, just a few paces ahead of the blond. Turning around so she could face him, she felt a shiver crawl down her spine as the chilled breeze pushed through the single-paned tower windows, rattling them. "Does she ever play nice?"

* * *

The hand holding his coat twitched as he watched her shiver. He had been internally debating offering his coat to her when they reached the fourth floor because he knew the higher they went in the castle, the less insulation was built in and the less likely it was that the Professors and House Elves heated the rooms. The classrooms that high up had been abandoned long ago after the first war's steady decline in magical births.

Did she say Pansy? Silver eyes tried to read the witch's question before her explanation, as if watching her expressions could magically provide insight into her mind (Surprise, it couldn't).

"Does she ever play nice?"

Draco, unable to keep his own cool demeanor, allowed the slightest hint of a grin to tag at the corners of his lips as he chuffed at her question. "On occasion," he explained as he began to take slow and deliberate steps towards her. His hands slid into the front pockets of his trousers to give off the appearance of calm and collected. "Only when Blaise asks, though. She's got a bit of a thing for him and we try our best to use it to our advantage when necessary."

"Blaise?" Hermione's brows went up in shock. "Seriously?" He watched her eyes take on a far-away appearance as she tried to wrack her brain for moments in which Pansy' obvious infatuation with the only Zabini heir was apparent, but Draco knew that unless she had insider knowledge on the inner workings of Pureblood courtship, it might not be possible to tell.

"Quite." As he carefully approached Hermione, he could hear her breath quicken with each step he took towards her. His gaze locked on hers, and just before he came toe-to-toe with the witch he side stepped around her. "It's rather obvious, Granger."

Glancing over his shoulder when he did not hear her following him, a single brow was lifted to the petrified witch in a silent question of if she intended to follow before he looked forward once more. His stride slowed, only slightly, for her to catch up to him as he rounded the corner to reveal a set of double doors which led to the East Tower.

Reaching out he pulled open the heavy oak door, his ring clinking against the brass handle, and he stepped back, allowing Hermione room to slip inside in front of him.

"Maybe you can differentiate her snark from her adoration, but I am obviously not well-versed in Parkinson's diction," Hermione explained as she stepped across the threshold to the tower. The abandoned hallway was not lit with torches since it was not actively being used. She wasted no wind withdrawing her wand from her pocket, casting lumos to provide soft lighting to the spiral staircase that ran up the tower. "I guess I always assumed you two fancied each other."

While her back to him, Draco allowed himself a moment for his gaze to drop below her shoulders and he almost immediately regretted the decision. Muggle jeans did wonders to her figure, cupping her heart-shaped arse to perfection and causing his trousers to tighten in response. He was far from inexperienced with witches, but something about her caused his body to react similarly to how his twelve-year-old self would have. "Fancy Pansy?" he clarified.

"Yes."

"No, absolutely not." Draco laughed, dismissing the proposition entirely.

* * *

Hermione kept her wand low, allowing the shine of her spell to illuminate the tile so she did not blind herself or Malfoy. His laughter caused a heat to rush down her body and pool in the apex of her thighs; the auditory porn that was his dulcet tone was not something she was aware would affect her so, but here, in the narrow space of the East Tower, where sound echoed around the nearly empty stone walls, it was easy to pick up on the nuances of how easily he affected her.

"B-But you dated her, didn't you?" Hermione stammered, attempting to push the rising feelings of curious desire down, and when his shoulder brushed against hers as he passed to begin the climb up the tower, she shivered again.

"Yes, but that was ages ago, Granger. We stopped dating fifth year," the blonde explained, chancing a quick glance over his shoulder to her before hastily looking forward once again. "I did not realise you were so interested in my dating life. Perhaps I can give you a detailed account of my love life later, if you're so interested."

Hermione used her free hand to stabilize herself against the railing as she climbed the stairs behind him, her fingers gripping the bannister a bit tighter at his accusation. Interested in his love life? Ha! He wished. It was hard not to notice when they were snogging around the castle like two Kneazles in heat! She had even had to go as far as to insist that the pair not be allowed to patrol together during their Fifth year when she had stumbled across their amorous habits for what felt like the umteenth time. "I'll pass. I guess I just never noticed her switch from blondes to wizards with black hair," she retorted as she rolled her eyes.

"No surprise there, really. You must have been too busy doing your yearly assignment of making sure Scar Head and Weasel were saved from self-destruction."

"Actually-" Hermione replied sharply, letting out a soft breath in exertion. They were nearly halfway up the tower and although she was in fairly good shape, the climb was never easy. "-I believe I would have been busy dealing with Umbridge and that lovely Inquisitorial Squad who was determined to prevent any actual sort of education from happening inside the castle walls." She thought better than to add that during that same year, she had also been distracted towards the end of the school year, what with recovering from a duel with his father and other followers of Voldemort.

* * *

 

Draco's steady pace faltered at her words, nearly causing her to run into his backside as he seemed to absorb her words. "Right. The Inquisitorial Squad" Carefully apathetic once more, his voice was flat, not giving her any indication of his true feelings. With a heavy sigh he began up the stairs with a renewed vigor, trying to put ample room between him and the witch. Of course she had been too busy to notice. He and his friend had damn near made it impossible for Potter and Company to sneeze in that castle without it being reported. It was the beginning of his life spiraling out of control, and he had used the little power Umbridge granted him to his advantage. At the time, his home was already beginning to accept much darker guests than ever before, truly evil witches and wizards gracing Malfoy Manor's halls. For the first time, his mother had requested he stay at Hogwarts during the holidays as to not bring their association around her son, but Draco knew. His father had already begun including him in his affairs.

Did he regret the decision to mercilessly torment so many that year? At the time, of course not. But now, upon reflection, he knew better. He had been old enough to know better, to do better. But instead, he exploited the situation for his own personal gain. What could he say that would make it right? 'Oh sorry about that? I was a right shit?' That did not exactly begin to make up for the following years of his abuse of power, relentless teasing and his family's involvement in quite literally hunting her and her friends for sport.

The remainder of the climb up the tower was done in silence, which meant the last hundred or so stairs gave Draco plenty of time for his mind to swirl with self-loathing. He hated himself for his past, for what he had done to her, and if possible, he hated himself even more for the perplexing desire he felt for her. Why now, after years of knowing (and hating) her, did she spark a staggering hunger for her that he had never felt before with any other witch? Was it that she testified for him? No, certainly not. He hated her for that. Was it the fates for retribution? Or was it possible that this longing had been there for years, buried so deep beneath the ideologies of his parents that it surely would have never seen the light of day, had the Golden Trio not successfully defeated The Dark Lord?

* * *

The remainder of the walk up the tower was done in silence. Thankfully, the sound of the wind whipping against the occasional window provided necessary background noise for it not to feel entirely awkward. As they reached the final landing, with only a wooden ladder leading up to what Hermione assumed was the location of their secret meeting, she took a moment to catch her breath on the landing of the stairs. "Are there any more things I should be aware of before we head up there?"

Draco, whose back was still to her, paused before the ladder, reaching out to rest his hand on a splintered rung before he glanced over to her. His own cheeks were flushed pink, although she could not tell if it was from the night's chill or their conversation. "Aware of? What do you mean?"

Hermione smirked, and reaching up she tucked her curls behind her ears before smoothing hands across her jeans, trying to will her nervousness away. In situations like these she normally had Ron or Harry at her side to help ease her apprehension, so for the first time in what felt like her entire life (which was certainly not the case), she felt like she was facing the unknown alone. "Well…. obviously Pansy's metaphorical cock is a bit of shock," she joked, trying to ease the thick tension between her and Malfoy. She was here right? Taking the olive branch extended. If they had meant her harm they certainly would not have invited her… Right?

Draco's eyes flashed to the floor for half a moment, and just when she thought she might get a snarky response back she was given a small smirk with a chuff of laughter. "I…" He began his thought before shaking his head with louder laughter. "I'm sorry about them. I meant to apologize for their behavior but..."

"Oh no, it's fine. They're fine." Hermione returned the laughter, grateful for the crack in the tension that had been created during their walk. "Honestly, they remind me a lot of my friends."

It was Draco's turn to be surprised. His brows lifted nearly to his hairline as his head cocked to the left. "Really? Your friends make jokes about witches having cocks?"

"Well, no." Hermione laughed, her nose wrinkling as her face stretched to accommodate her wide grin through her laughter. "No, that accusation might be entirely unique to them. Harry and Ron are far less crass then Theodore and Blaise, but the humor is similar."

"Childish?" Draco questioned as he began to climb the ladder, reaching up to the ceiling to push open the trap door, revealing soft blue lighting into the dark room below. Draco looked down between the ladder and himself to catch a glimpse of her at the bottom, where she was waiting for him to ascend before beginning her own climb.

"At times, very," Hermione replied, her hands poised between two rungs about height level, and when Draco smirked in response before disappearing beyond the trap door in the room she could not help but flush once again. What the hell was her body doing? She had never been one of those girls, the ones who went positively daft with the slightest attention from a handsome wizard. Coming to terms with what was happening would have caused her to have to admit she found Draco Malfoy handsome, and presently that was not going to happen. So the blame for her flushed cheeks was placed solely and directly upon the jaunt they had had to take from the dungeons to nearly the highest point in the castle.

Taking a deep breath for courage, she moved quickly up the ladder, fingers gripping the aged wood tightly as she reached the top, and when she lifted her hand to feel for the flooring of the room above her, she expected cold stonework but instead found a warm hand waiting for her.

Careful to make sure she did not slip, Draco helped hoist Hermione up from ladder. His hand slid across her lower back as he guided her away from the opening before closing it with his loafer.

The room was dimly lit by blue balls of light that hovered in the air a few feet down from the high ceiling. From what she could tell the room was likely used by a previous instructor, more than likely astronomy based on the fact there were several old telescopes and star-gazing crystals pushed against the walls of the circular classroom. Aside from the ancient looking equipment, there was a single overstuffed armchair that had seen better days, large cushions similar to the ones found in Trelawney's classroom, and two settees all scattered in a haphazard circle in the center in the room. Against the far wall opposite of the trap door was a desk that had clearly been magicked to bar-height, judging by the overly lengthy legs, and atop the makeshift bar sat nearly half a dozen bottles of various Magical liquors and spirits as well as several crystal chalices and tumblers.

Blaise's head lifted from its lulled-back state. The wizard had draped himself sideways across the armchair, his legs thrown over one arm while his back pressed against the other. He already had a crystal tumbler held loosely in his grip, resting against the flat of his stomach. "I was starting to think you might not come, Hermione," he greeted with a smile.

Theo, who was standing at the bar as his wand directed a floating chalice that was making its way across the room towards Pansy, gave a friendly hello. Green eyes dropped to where Draco and Hermione's hands were connected and a wicked grin began to form across his face. "We were worried. Draco's notorious for taking witches in secluded areas of the castle for a good old-fashioned ravishing."

Pansy, plucking her drink from the air, brought the stem wear to her lips for a delicate sip. She was beside Blaise on a cushion, her legs crossed at the knee with her heels flat against the floor. The absolute definition of prim and proper, something that Hermione, no matter how hard she might try, would never be able to achieve, not that she ever complained. "I highly doubt Draco would take _her_ on one of his castle adventures. Don't be ludicrous, Theodore."

Draco, whose hand lingered on Hermione's back for just a moment longer than necessary, seemed to brush off the implications of both Theo and Pansy with little effort. His fingertips slipped across her lower back as he stepped away from Hermione, moving across the room towards the bar. "She was late coming from the dormitory," Draco explained as he casually dropped his blazer on the sette as he passed.

"Oh no, sit. I'll serve you both. Practicing my bartending before the holidays. You know how the old man likes to entertain," Theo explained, waving his hand at Draco before he could step further so his friend would sit down.

The blond wizard shrugged before allowing himself to plop down on the settee with far less grace than Hermione would have imagined from him. As he settled into the settee, he carefully began to unbutton the cuffs on his button-down to push up his sleeves a bit, allowing himself more room to reach for the tumbler of Fire Whiskey as it floated toward him.

Hermione hesitated a moment, surveying the seating arrangement in front of her, and decided she would take a seat on the opposite side of Blaise, which would have put her directly out of Pansy' eyeline as well as Draco's, but as she crossed the small room towards the cushion, Theo appeared beside her, his arm linking into hers with a crystal tumbler tucked in each hand. "Well, that's alright. We can work on your punctuality this year," he teased as he guided her towards a small couch directly across from Draco. "Sit. You're our guest of honor-"

Pansy snorted into her glass, brown eyes rolling unabashedly.

"-So you get the best seat." Theo shot Pansy a hard stare, his eyes narrowing in a reminder of their talk only moments prior, before he looked back to Hermione with a perfectly placed grin.

As she sank into the couch, she took the offered beverage from Theodore, and curled her hands around the glass. "Thank you. I'd much rather be a fly on the wall than the center of attention though."

"Oh, you hear that? Granger wants to be an insect. That could be arranged," Pansy remarked over her wine glass, and when Blaise sat up in the chair and twisted around to face her, clearly intent on reprimanding her, Pansy lifted her hand to silence him while she carefully rose from the cushion and moved across the room to refill her suddenly empty wine glass.

"Ignore her. She's just upset because she isn't getting laid anytime soon," Theo whispered before winking at Hermione, who was just trying to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation happening around her. As Theo carefully perched on the arm of the couch opposite Hermione, his legs crossed at the knee. "Let's make a toast," he suggested as he leaned back to place his elbow on the back of the couch as he lifted the tumbler. "To new friends."

"To good company," Blaise echoed, lifting his own tumbler.

"To decent wine," Pansy could be heard as she walked back to the makeshift circle with a refilled glass.

"To our eighth year." Draco lifted his own glass out in front of him, piercing silver eyes glued to Hermione as he spoke. She could not be certain, but it was almost as if he was speaking specifically to her in that moment.

"To new experiences," Hermione added, breaking her eyes away from his to look at the amber liquid inside the tumbler before her, and with a quick breath she brought it to her lips and took a large gulp. Almost immediately the decision to join their toast with something as strong as Fire Whiskey was regretted. She nearly dropped the crystal tumbler as she began to cough, her throat burning from the rich, fiery aftertaste. Theo, bless him, reached out to snag the tumbler from her, which allowed her to place both hands over her mouth as she began to cough in response, her eyes watering as the flame that had erupted in her throat from drinking the Magical liquor began to make its way down her esophagus and settle into her belly.

She had drunk alcohol before; Butterbeer was only slightly alcoholic but something she certainly enjoyed, and while abroad with her parents she had enjoyed a glass of wine over supper, but Fire Whiskey was an entirely new experience. As her coughing subsided, she lifted her right hand to dab the corner of her watering eyes. "That was… Awful."

"I suppose it's safe to assume you've never had Fire Whiskey before?" Blaise questioned through his laughter.

"No. We usually stick to Butterbeer," Hermione explained. Leaning back on the couch she dropped her right hand t0 rub against her neck in an attempt to calm the burning sensation inside. When Theo Accio'd a chalice similar to Pansy's and the bottle of wine, she happily took the beverage, gulping down a rather large mouthful to ease the burn.

"I told you this was a mistake," Pansy remarked, glancing past her on-and-off-again boyfriend and over to Draco, making a point to hold his attention for a moment before looking away with a frustrated huff.

"Oh play nice, Pans. Merlin you act like you did not react the same way after your first sip," Theo scolded, clicking his tongue at the raven-haired witch.

"I did, but I was also twelve, Theodore. Granger is clearly not…" Dark brown eyes shot a judgemental glance to Hermione, as if assessing her worthiness to be in the same room as them. "...ready for this."

"Nonsense," Blaise interrupted. Rising from his chair he moved over to stand beside Pansy, his hand coming to rest on her slender shoulder. "We'll just have to break her in slowly. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco, who had thus far managed to avoid the conversation, cleared his throat awkwardly. The implications for Blaise's tone were rather obviously that his friend was not just talking about Hermione's introduction to their inner circle, and it was clear that Draco was having a decidedly hard time figuring out how to answer. When he opened and closed his mouth for the second time without a single syllable being uttered, Hermione interrupted.

"I've drunk Muggle spirits before, but… I mean the name is pretty obvious as to how the liquor should taste, but it burns far worse than any normal Whiskey does. I was caught off guard," she explained, wanting to steer the conversation into more comfortable territory. Lifting her wine glass, she quickly drank the contents.

"Muggle liquor? Do they make anything worth a damn?" Blaise questioned, his fingers working their way across the back of Pansy's neck in soothing circles to keep the she-beast at bay.

"Well, I don't think it's bad. The wine I've tried while on holiday with my parents did not taste too different from whatever this was," Hermione explained, lifting up her glass just slightly, and as if on queue, Theodore lifted the bottle he'd swiped earlier to give her a refill. "Oh...I really shouldn't," she tried to explain as he poured the amber liquid into her chalice.

"You'll be fine. It's not even Elven wine. Goblin-made," he explained, spinning the bottle until the label showed out to her, as if it would provide an explanation as to why one would be better than the other for this situation.

"Do you think you can bring us a bottle? Purely academic of course; I'd be willing to participate in a taste comparison between vineyards," Blaise explained, glancing down at Pansy when he felt her stiffen somewhat beneath his fingertips at the request. When he leaned down to whisper in her ear, Hermione watched as whatever tension the witch had been holding faded away almost entirely and she nodded eagerly up to him when he pulled back.

"That could be quiet fun," Theo agreed decidedly, his lips pursing as he tapped his index finger on them in thought. "It would have to be after the holiday. I would bring home some bottles from his reserve and we could even get little scorecards to rate them in a blind taste test. What a splendid idea, Blaise. Don't you agree, Hermione?"

"Umm. I mean yes it sounds… Great. I'm just a bit surprised you all would be willing to try Muggle wine," she admitted, biting her bottom lip as she glanced between Blaise and Theodore, careful to avoid eye contact with Malfoy, who seemed keen on not participating in the conversation at hand.

"Oh, please. You've really got to catch up to the new times, Hermione. Blood status is not important now, what with the new Minister and his agenda or whatever you want to call it," Theo explained dismissively. "Besides, I'll drink anything as long as it does the trick."

"And what trick is that, pray tell, Theodore?" Pansy questioned, unable to stay silent any longer as she leaned her head against Blaise's side comfortably, a knowing smirk crossing her lips.

"Well, for starters, it makes you far more pleasant to be around," Theo returned.

"I will second that," Draco added in a soft mumble as he lifted up his glass to take a sip of Fire Whiskey, carefully ducking out of the way of the flying throw pillow that Pansy had lobbed his direction.

"But I believe the answer you are looking for, Madam Parkinson, is that it lets me forget that the amount of eligible wizards within these castle walls are slim to none," Theo continued, his free hand reaching up to push his feathered fringe from his green eyes. "Like Michael Corner was ever actually a viable option. His hair is atrocious."

Hermione's brow knit as she set her half-drunk wine glass on the arm of the couch. Eligible wizards? No, she had to have misheard him.

"Oh please, Nott. That does not stop you from shagging straight wizards. Are Ravenclaws still your favorite flavor or have you turned to lowly lions this year, like Draco?" Pansy pressed.

"Wait a moment, you're gay?" Hermione interrupted, shock clearly written over her face as she looked up to Theodore, who only smiled and winked in return to her question. How had she possibly gone to school with him for the past six years and never noticed? They shared nearly all the same classes together and had even partnered on assignments before!

Blaise laughed, lifting his hand from his girlfriend's shoulder to brush over the top of his closely-cropped hair. "Oh, Granger. You and your friends really must have tried to busy yourselves with saving the world to not notice Theodore's budding sexuality," he teased, warm brown eyes twinkling in amusement. "I'm pretty sure the entire school knows Theo is an open door when it comes to who graces his bed."

"He doesn't discriminate. Wizard or Witch," Draco added, settling back into the couch as he lifted his ankle to rest against his knee, his right arm stretching out the length of the back of the settee as he smiled in amusement at Hermione's astonishment. "Blaise and I have had the unfortunate pleasure of walking in on him enough time to verify the accuracy of this."

"Oh please, you both loved it," Theo snorted into his tumbler.

Hermione could feel the effects of the Fire Whiskey and three (or was it four? Theo seemed to have managed to fill her glass several times without her noticing, almost as if it was charmed to refill automatically!) glasses of wine begin to take hold, her cheeks flushing, and the chill she had felt only moments before was a distant thought. And as much as she knew this conversation would have made her blush something fierce in her sober state, she could not stop herself from gaining clarification. "So… You're not gay?"

"I'm… what do the Muggles call it? Bisexual?" Theo turned, glancing over to Pansy quizzically before looking back to Hermione. "I believe that's what it's called. Although, I do find my fascination with the fairer sex diminishing," he added thoughtfully before taking the last sip in his tumbler.

"Bisexual…" she repeated, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips as she tried to imagine the wizard in question paired up with a smartly-dressed man. It was not out of the question; she had never actually seen Theodore with any witch or wizard before, so any preconceived notions of his sexuality were non-existent, but Michael? She knew Michael. He had dated Ginny during fifth year and then Cho shortly after. "Did you say Michael Corner was gay as well?" Hermione tried to confirm, her brow knitting.

Theo gave an innocent shrug, looking away from Hermione as he sipped his drink. He was not going to kiss and tell, and he would certainly make no claims to the Ravenclaw's preferences, but he knew the boy was down for a quick shag should the need arise.

"Enough about Theo's quest to confuse heterosexual wizards' sexual preferences," Blaise remarked, lifting his hand that held his tumbler and he gestured towards his friend. "We could quite literally spend all night on that topic and I know I am eager for you to spill your own secrets, Granger."

"My secrets? I don't have secrets," Hermione returned quicker than intended, but it was almost blatantly obvious since the war ended. The Golden Trio's lives had been blasted over the headlines of the Prophets for months at this point. In fact the only real sort of privacy Hermione had gotten since before the Battle of Hogwarts was when she returned to the castle. Which is not saying much considering that rumors traveled around the castle faster than the Prophet's two-a-day delivery.

"Sure you do. You are not precluded from having them because you're the Gryffindor Princess." Theo slipped from the arm of the settee onto the cushion beside Hermione, before turning towards the witch as he tucked a leg underneath him as he twisted to face her. "Surely there had to be more than that the papers are publishing."

When Hermione did not immediately offer any sort of dirt, Pansy let out a dramatic sigh, unable to take what she assumed was feigned ignorance. "For fuck's sake, Granger. For being a relatively intelligent witch, you can be rather thick at times. They're trying to determine if your and Weasley's relationship is actually valid or a fabrication of Skeeter's."

Draco, who had been showing only a passing interest in the unfolding conversation since he'd settled on the settee across from Hermione seemed to snap to attention. The finger that had been tapping a silent beat on the back cushion paused and he shifted on the couch, straightening out his posture.

"Ron and I are dating," Hermione confirmed.

"If you're dating, why didn't he return to school with you?" Theo's hand was lifted to his lips, trying to smother the knowing smile by stroking his thumb across his lower lip in careful thought. His own curiosity on the subject was mild at best, but he knew the blonde who sat mere feet away was more than invested in these details, even if he denied the fact until he was blue in the face.

"Harry and Ron are in the Auror program. Early acceptance because of their actions in The War." Hermione shrugged, glancing down to her wine glass that she had retrieved from the floor, watching the amber liquid ripple before another large sip was taken. "It's not like we have been dating long. Less than six months, so there's really not a lot to share."

"You mean you never fooled around with him before the war?" Blaise asked incredulously, as if the possibility that the relationship was still in its infancy was preposterous.

"There was not a lot of time for dating, Blaise. Between school and… the extracurricular activities I was involved in-" Hermione carefully chose her words, making sure to avoid the topic of adventures over the years that often dealt with the parents, aunts and uncles of the current inhabitants of the room. No, she had made the mistake earlier with Malfoy on her way up and did not feel like reliving the awkward silence if she could avoid it. "- it really was not an option."

"But you dated Krum," Draco's voice cut across circular room, pulling Hermione's attention back to him.

When Hermione caught his steely gaze, the warmth that pooled between her thighs earlier returned nearly instantly and her bottom lip was bitten. Pressing her thighs together to ease the ache, she nodded. "We went on dates, but were never dating."

"So you're not serious with Weasel then?" Draco drawled, his eyes flickering between Hermione's lips and her eyes, unable to pull his attention away from the way her tongue danced across her lips to moisten them.

"As serious as you can get for five months along, I supposed. He only visits about once a week, and we write but…. Dating is rather difficult due to the distance."

"So, you're not shagging him then, I take it?" Blaise interrupted the pair, asking the question that had been lingering in the front of Draco's mind.

"W-What?" Hermione coughed, and nearly instantly her cheeks flamed crimson.

"You know… Shagging him. Giving his broomstick a ride or two," Theo offered the explanation on Blaise's behalf.

Draco's head snapped towards Theo instantly and he gave him a hard look as he shook his head. "Merlin. You don't have to answer that, Granger," Draco offered as he stood from the settee and moved across the room to refill his suddenly empty glass.

"She most certainly does," Pansy quipped.

"It's only fair, Draco. She has been given key details on my sexual past, and she knows about Blaise and Pansy's ultra secret game of bedroom tag. It's only fair if we get something in return," Theo retorted, waving his hand dismissively at Draco.

"Her… private life is none of our concern," Draco reiterated, pouring the amber liquid into his tumbler before turning to lean back against the makeshift bar, his eyes locking on Hermione's to make sure she understood she was under no obligation to share the details of her sex life. "You don't have to answer unless you want to." Did he want to know? Of course, but that didn't mean she felt comfortable sharing with the group. Especially considering she was not exactly close friends with any of them. At best, they were acquaintances.

It could have been Gryffindor bravery, or liquid courage, but either way you slice it, Hermione felt emboldened. Malfoy was correct; she did not have to answer, but he was not her knight in shining armor. He did not need to defend her honor. She was perfectly capable of handling it herself. "No, we haven't shagged."

Blaise let out a low whistle before clicking his tongue. "Well, Weasley might be batting for your team, Theo. Do redheads stir anything in you?"

"No, it's not like we haven't done anything… or he's not tried," Hermione nearly immediately regretted the verbal vomit that was her unexplainable need to defend Ron's libido, internally cursing herself as she realised her grave error.

"Well, don't leave hanging, Hermione. Spill," Theo instructed, placing a fist underneath his chin as he wagged his brows at her.

Merlin...what had she gotten herself into? "He's...uh." Her eyes shifted to Draco, who was still at the bar, eagerly hanging off every word, which did little to ease the blush that she was certain was creeping down her neck. "He's touched me before, and I've returned the favor." At her words, she could hear both Theo and Blaise talk animatedly about her confession, but it all seemed like mumbles compared to the ringing sound of her blood rushing past her ears as she watched Draco. His apathetic demeanor was betrayed by the flash of fire that burned in his eyes before he broke their eye contact to drain his recently filled glass of whiskey. Why did it matter to him? Just because he had spent the past two months staring at her in class did not mean he held anything but curiosity about her, right?

"Oh you naughty witch. I always figured you for a good girl, Granger," Blaise praised, lifting his tumbler towards her in a playful toast.

"Please, giving a handy is far from being a harlot," Pansy grumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips together in the most pug-like fashion Hermione had ever seen.

"I wasn't aware you give handjobs with your mouth, Pansy," Hermione returned, smirking despite the growing blush as the witch got up from her spot on the cushion and moved across the room, obviously intent on being finished with her participation in the conversation.

* * *

 

The remainder of the night revealed far less secrets than the beginning half, and by nearly 2am (and after many yawns) Draco finally insisted he escort Hermione back to the dorm. He knew his friends were far from being finished with their weekly ritual, but from the looks of it, Granger was far from able to keep up with them.

With reluctant goodnights given, Draco and Hermione made their way through the cold castle to the common room down in the dungeons. He had drapped his blazer across her shoulders when they were still on the fifth floor. He had told himself it was because he was sick of hearing her teeth chatter with her shivers, but the truth was he wanted to see how she looked draped inside something of his.

The imagery behind it played havoc on his alcohol-influenced mind, only providing the slightest bit of nudge needed for him to begin imagining her draped across his bed, wrapped in his button down as he put his head between her parted thighs. Of course, this pipe dream was something far from reality. She'd nearly come out of her skin when he gave her his coat, making sure to keep her distance as they walked.

Upon reaching the common room, he held the door open for Hermione (he was a gentleman after all) and as they slipped inside they found an entirely empty common room and a warm fire roaring in the corner. His hand carefully closed the door behind him with a soft click, and he watched as Hermione-No, Granger-looked longingly at the couches by the fire before she began to make her way across the door towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitory. "Do you want to sit?" he called across the room before taking the leap and moving towards the small couch before the fireplace. "I'm not tired yet, and would not mind the company."

Hermione's eyes closed at his words. Thankfully with her back to him, he could not make out the internal debate that raged on inside her. Should she go crawl into bed? Of course. She was supposed to meet Ron and Harry tomorrow mid-morning, but did she want to? No. Not when the alternative was to sit in front of the warm fire with a wizard she had an unexplainable attraction towards.

"Sure. That sounds nice," Hermione replied before turning her direction to move towards the fireplace.

Draco looked over to Hermione as she came closer, heated gaze watching the way her arms curled into the lapels of his blazer, pulling it tighter around her as she sat next to him. "Why did you tell them that stuff?" The question had been on the tip of his tongue since her admission of her amorous affairs earlier. He had almost asked it earlier on their walk back, but had decided against it. She did not owe any of them an explanation into her relationship, so why would she bother?

"What stuff?" Hermione's fingers picked at the cuff of his blazer absentmindedly, keeping her eyes cast down at her lap as she collected herself. This was Draco fucking Malfoy next to her, not some stranger. This was the same boy who had tormented her during her youth. She could not possibly feel anything for him. Especially not because she was happily in a relationship with Ron.

"About you and…and…"

"Ron?" Gulping down the growing infatuation she chanced a glanced to the blonde. Chocolate brown eyes danced across his face that was illuminated in the soft glow of the fireplace. He was not looking directly at her, thankfully, but rather studying the flames. When he was younger his face had been pointy, the aristocratic angles too sharp, but as he grew they softened. Or perhaps it was he grew into them? He still held a strong jawline and sharp nose, but they seemed less harsh now and more handsome.

"Yes, him. Why did you tell them about that...stuff?"

"Because… because it doesn't matter. Not that he doesn't, but rather… what we've done doesn't. He's my boyfriend...and I guess I am sick of Pansy and every other girl our year treating me like I'm some sort of prude just because I have not dropped my knickers for every boy who bats his eyes at me."

Draco pulled his eyes from the flickering flame to look at Hermione. The carefully placed apathy was long gone, his eyes betraying him far more than his words ever would. They twinkled with desire, burning darker than before, not only to know her, but to possess her. He knew he shouldn't but there was no denying it. He wanted her. "What would you rather they say? You're far from being a sexual deviant from what I can tell."

Hermione bit the corner of her bottom lip as she felt a magnetic pull begin to bring her and Draco closer together. Neither one of them seemed aware of it; either that or neither was willing to break their eye contact to notice they seemed to be leaning in toward one another. "Maybe I'm sick of always being the good girl," she whispered, her eyes flashing between his eyes and his lips.

"So you want to be a bad one then?" Draco gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. From this close he could make out the light freckles that ran on the apple of her cheeks and across her nose. He could damn near count every beautiful long dark eyelash she possessed. "That doesn't sound like the Granger I know." His voice was barely above a whisper, ghosting across her skin.

"You don't really know me though, do you?" she returned, her voice quivering as she let out a shaky breath. This was wrong. She should not be having this conversation with him. She should get up right now and move back into her dormitory and forget it ever occured.

"...Maybe I'm trying to."

"Well… then we'll have to wait and see what kind of girl you think I am after…"

"After what?"

"After you...get to know me…"

Draco's hand lifted, his knuckles brushing against her cheek before he cupped her delicate jawline and pulled her to him. She tasted divine, better than he anticipated, and as his fingers slipped up her cheek to the side of her hair, curling into the sinfully wild curls, he groaned into her mouth. He had envisioned this moment since his trial, and if he was being honest with himself, far younger. Except back then it was more of a means to get her to shut the fuck up, whereas now he was taking his time because instead of silencing her, he wanted to hear ever little possible noise he could draw from her throat.

Hermione's hands moved to his chest, curling into the starchy fabric of his button down, ruining any sort of semblance of composure he held as she pulled him towards her. All thoughts of why this was wrong and how she was betraying her friends were evaporated the moment his mouth met hers, and the only thing that was on her mind was him and how with a single sweep of his tongue against her bottom lip, begging for entrance into her mouth, he managed to soak her knickers entirely.

Just as Draco's free hand moved to her waist, his fingers brushing under the hemline of her maroon v-neck to touch her soft skin once more, the sound of the common room door opening acted like a bucket of cold water being thrown onto a fire. Hermione broke from the kiss first, pushing against his chest until he was shoved back against the loveseat instead of curled to the side. Before his mind could catch up to the scene unfolding before him, Hermione had gotten up from the loveseat and darted into her dormitory without so much as a goodnight being uttered.

Draco looked over his shoulder in enough time to catch a glimpse of her disappearing up the staircase, a frown setting deeply over his features as he looked to the source of their disruption. A pair of eighth year Ravenclaws stood in the entrance to the common room with mild confusion and panic as they tried to decode the puzzle they had just walked in on. He welcomed them to try, because from where he was sitting it made no fucking sense either. His hand lifted toward the pair, gesturing for the suddenly silent study partners to move across the room towards the dormitory before he turned back towards the fire, carefully hidden behind the loveseat. Lifting his hands to his face he rubbed his fingertips against his forehead as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. He's kissed Granger; the taste of her lips still present on his tongue made his trousers painfully tight. She had spent the better part of the evening discussing her relationship with that red-headed fool, but if he was not mistaken, Draco was almost certain she had kissed him back. And the implication of the returned kiss meant that it was quite possible Granger returned the confusing feelings he felt for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely reviews and follows. A huge thank you to my beta, Islandgurl777 who talked me off a ledge after this was written. I was having some serious writer's doubt but she assured me this was not nearly as terrible as I assumed. I hope you all enjoy. Expect another update in 2 weeks.


	4. Visitors

 

 

* * *

Visitors

* * *

 

Hermione Granger had wanted him to know her, beyond the good girl persona, beyond the bookish tendencies. She was practically begging for him to prove that being a swot did not mean being a prude and that fact replayed in his mind the entire night. _'Maybe I'm sick of always being the good girl.'_ She couldn't possibly begin to understand what those nine words did to him. It was like the fantasies that he had successfully suppressed for years were reanimated from the dead. Like she was a fucking necromancer for his most depraved thoughts.

Of course, he had every intention of doing what she had requested. Getting to know her, and in the most intimate way possible since it was obvious she had felt the same magnetic pull between the two of them that he had fought for years. He could deal with the consequences later. It wasn't like he was going to date her. No, she had Weasley for that sort of nonsense. He just needed to get this out of his system. To get her out from the dark recesses of his mind so he could finally move past whatever sort of involuntary crush he had developed.

This plan, to make Granger his plaything so he could return to normal life, was short-lived though. Mainly because she was fucking avoiding him. He should have known this reaction would have occurred. Part of him figured this would happen (you know, the very small part of his brain that still properly functioning). She was dating Weaselbee and had just spent a significant portion of Friday night discussing the details of their arrangement, before their short-lived kiss in front of the fireplace. And then there was the small fact that he was a former Death Eater, which was likely more glaring to her than it was to him.

He had looked for her in the common room the rest of the weekend to no avail. He'd even sought out the distinguishable silhouette of her curls through the low light and stacks of books in the library, yet she was decidedly missing. He had finally resorted to threatening a Hufflepuff with bodily harm when he had not seen her by Wednesday. He had told himself it was because he was just trying to cross the bridge from enemy to friend, but in truth he was worried. It was unlike her to avoid confrontation; he had known her for nearly eight years now and never once had he seen her tuck tail and run from a fight.

Which was why when the Hufflepuff returned to inform him that Hermione was in her room, and appeared alive and well, a bitter spike of pain ran to his core. Of course. She wasn't ill, or missing. She was fucking avoiding him.

The rest of the week he had not bothered to look for her at all. If she wanted to be left alone he would do just that. She had made it obvious with her actions that she regretted what happened between them; no words needed to be spoken to confirm that. He wasn't sure he would actually be able to stomach the rejection anyways, not after having a taste of the forbidden fruit. He wasn't supposed to feel that way about her, yet the thought of her pressing those supple lips against anyone else's made his blood boil.

Which was why, when Friday rolled around again, Draco was more than willing to attend the secret meeting of the minds in the North Tower. He wasn't going to be much of a conversationalist, but the idea of drowning his mixed emotions about the curly haired brunette who plagued his mind the last week seemed like a tremendous improvement over wanking her image out of his head.

"Will she be joining us?" Theo questioned Draco as he walked out of the dormitory and into the common space, straightening the forest green cardigan he had opted for today instead of the traditional blazer.

"What?" Draco brow knit together as he walked, and Theo moved closer to him. He waited with Daphne, Blaise, and Pansy in the living room for their friend to finish whatever pampering he thought he needed to complete before they all left for the North Tower.

Theo lifted a single brow at Draco, the skepticism written plainly across his face. Like Draco didn't know exactly who he referring to. "Your latest conquest. Granger. Will she be joining us this evening?"

* * *

 It was a mistake. The kiss had been nothing but a misunderstanding, fueled by wine and the warmth of the fireplace. At least that was what she had been telling herself all week to avoid the truth, because the truth was far too complicated. Instead of facing the truth, Hermione did what she did best. She retreated into her books and made a list of rules to follow so she did not wind up in this mess again. The first of which was 'No Kissing Draco Malfoy.' She could barely believe she had written it when her quill hit the parchment, but once it was there she underlined it for good measure.

Rule two: No drinking with Slytherins. Obviously the need for companionship was increasing as the holidays drew near. She missed Harry and Ronald terribly, but she still had friends on campus. Ginny and Luna for starters, and Neville was just down in the Greenhouses beginning his Herbology apprenticeship with Professor Sprout. No, she did not need to befriend Malfoy, Theo, Blaise or Pansy. Certainly not. She could just exchange pleasantries when needed and spend the rest of her six months at Hogwarts focused on her studies.

Rule three: Stop dreaming. Because since Friday night the only thing she seemed to manage to dream about was breaking the first rule. The feel of his lips against hers, the way his hands gripped her hips and the soft little noise that erupted from the back of his throat as their tongues brushed against one another. She had been with Ron for six months and had yet to hear him make noises like that. Even the memories of their kiss caused her heart to thunder and the nagging ache between her thighs to return. No matter how many times she tried to replace the thoughts of the kiss of ones she had shared with Ron (or even Viktor!), she somehow found herself thinking of the strikingly handsome blonde wizard each time her hand slipped into her knickers at night to relieve the built-up tension.

Which is precisely why she had avoided crossing his path all week. She would stop by the kitchen to get a plate of dinner or lunch and squirrel away to her nook in the Central Tower, or on several occasions she would find herself hidden away in the Room of Requirement, curled up on a chaise lounge in front of a roaring fire while she worked on essays. She knew his habits well enough by now to know that she could make it through their shared common room at eleven o'clock, which was usually about the time he would call his own revisions done for the night.

She couldn't bare to feel his gaze across her skin, setting it aflame as she tried to combat the rising urges, which was precisely why she had also opted to sit in the rear of their shared classes all week long, showing up just as lectures were about to begin and leaving promptly at release. She was careful to avoid being seen, should he want to approach her about what had occurred between them. The mistake.

When she wrote Ron on Wednesday asking to move their dinner date back two hours, she had done so in hopes of missing the pack of Slytherins entirely, especially Malfoy. Ten-thirty was a bit late for supper, but if she knew Ron well enough, she suspected he would not turn down the opportunity for a second meal. Unlike her boyfriend, Hermione's appetite was decidedly missing when she woke up on Friday. Her nerves prevented her from even bothering with any sort of meal the entire day. This was her chance to prove, to herself, that Ron could give her the same sort of feeling that Malfoy did with just a single kiss. She had booked them a room at Three Broomsticks and told herself this infatuation with the blonde would vanish the moment she was able to set eyes on her boyfriend.

Hermione smoothed her hands over the soft plains of her stomach after adjusting the thick black belt around her sweater dress. Her nose wrinkled in distaste as she turned from side to side, examining the way it accentuated her figure. From the front it hugged her curves beautifully, giving her a soft hourglass shape, but from the sides she couldn't help draw her eyes to the smallest swell beneath the beltline. "You are your own worst critic, Hermione," she mumbled to herself before reaching behind her to unhook the belt before tossing it on top of her comforter.

Adjusting the soft knit of the sweater around her middle to hide what she felt was one of her worst features, she took one last look in the mirror. Her hair was left down, just the front of her curls braided back on the sides to leave her face unobstructed. She wore light makeup, the hint of blush on her cheeks, rouge on her lips, and her eyes outlined in a soft, smokey gray eyeliner. Underneath the form fitting gray sweater dress she opted for a daring pair of deep purple knickers and matching bra. It wasn't model-worthy by any means, but she thought it flattered her figure nicely. It had been a gift from Ginny two birthdays ago, back when she was still writing Viktor. At the time Hermione was nearly mortified, because this was far from the sensible knickers and bra she normally wore but now she was grateful it had been tucked in the back of her trunk. Sheer black stockings covered her legs from the biting cold breeze of the autumn chill outside, and a pair of knee-high black boots were selected. She felt, to put it quite frankly, sexy. She was going to seduce Ron (which hopefully would not take much effort, considering they had had relations before) and prove to herself that whatever feelings Malfoy had stirred in her were simply misguided.

Grabbing her navy peacoat from atop her trunk, she tucked it under her arm before she began out of the dormitory, checking her wristwatch to make sure it was past ten so she stood no chance of running into the Slytherins on her way out of the castle.

As she descended the stairs her hand rested on the banister, helping keep her balance on the low heels. It wasn't until she heard her name gasped across the common room that she realised that the carefully laid plan had gone awry.

"Look at you, all dolled up," the eldest Greengrass sister complimented across the common room. Daphne was quite possibly the nicest Slytherin Hermione had the pleasure of knowing during their first seven years at Hogwarts. Unlike Pansy, she had never spoken ill toward Hermione or her friends, at least not that she had been aware of. They had shared several classes together over the years and Hermione had even helped tutor the witch during their fifth year when she struggled with correctly identifying the celestial bodies' names in Astronomy. Daphne had been nothing short of pleasant and even thanked her for the help once she had achieved a passing mark. "She looks lovely, doesn't she Pans'?"

Pansy glanced over, judgemental blue eyes running the length of Hermione's outfit before a shrug was given. "Quite…I think I've seen my House Elves wear a similar tea-towel," she remarked before turning her attention back to her group of friends, who were hovering near the portrait hole that would lead them to the dungen corridor.

Hermione's cheek blazed at the attention, her fingers curling into her peacoat as she moved to hold it against her middle. "They must have decent taste then," she murmured her reply, and when Pansy rolled her eyes, turning her back to Hermione, she caught sight of the wizard who had plagued her thoughts since Friday, causing her heart to thump painfully beneath her ribs once more.

* * *

Draco had watched her descend the last several stairs of the girls' dormitory, steely gray eyes running over her figure, causing his throat to suddenly feel far too dry. He had never wished to be an article of clothing before, but the way her dress hugged the soft curves of her hips and breasts made him do just that. She looked divine. In all honestly, she probably could have been in a potato sack and he might have thought the same. Laying eyes on her in over a week seemed to ease a part of his soul he did not realise was filled with tension.

"Now, now Pansy. I know we've discussed this. We are nice to our friends," Theo scolded the curt witch, his finger wagging at Pansy before he turned to fully assess Granger's supposed breathtaking outfit. His hand went to his chin as his lips pursed, hazel eyes scanning her outfit without the hunger that was present in Draco's steely gaze. "I don't disagree with Daphne, but you can do better. Your outfit is on the right track though, far better than the trainers and jeans we saw you in last week. I'm glad you decided to come out of hiding to join us."

"I don't think she dressed up to join us, Theo. Not everyone treats our Friday night indulgence as much of an event as you do," Blaise smirked, his arm looping around Pansy's waist. "Where are you off too, Granger?"

"Hogsmeade," Hermione replied, chocolate brown eyes coming to lock on Malfoy's, and she felt a bolt of energy run directly from her heart to her knickers, causing a familiar heat to pool between her thighs. Christ, if he could do that to her with one look, she could not begin to imagine what else he could do… if given the opportunity. Cursing herself for her wandering mind, she tore her gaze away from his, turning her attention to Blaise and shifting her weight to her left foot. "I'm meeting a friend for dinner."

"Potter and Weasel?" Draco questioned. His hands slipped into the front pockets of his trousers, his fingers smoothing the coins he had in his pocket from earlier as a way to suppress the urge to reach across the common room and snog some sense into the witch. When he felt Pansy's eyes narrow on him, he looked away from Granger, lifting his right hand from his pocket to smooth his blond hair back from his face, as he tried to mask his desire with a look of impassive interest to the witch's evening plans.

"Ronald, if you must know," Hermione answered honestly.

"You mean Weasley does not take Potter on all your dates?" Theo snickered. "Color me surprised. I figured he would have to request permission to kiss you, let alone get you by yourself."

"We have had plenty of alone time. Harry isn't… always there during our visits."

"No? I always see the three of you together. Like some sort of…" Theo waved his hand in a fleeting gesture as he shrugged. "I dunno... Runespoor or something. One head can't live without the other or some nonsense."

"Harry comes, on occasion, because… Well, we just don't have much time to catch up with their schedule and mine. They only get a day off here and there and-"

"And Weasley cannot be bothered to get you alone?" Blaise interjected, his brows lifting in surprise. "While you are not my type, Granger, he is a fool to not at least try. Perhaps someone ought to talk to that wizard about getting his priorities straight."

* * *

Hermione's mouth opened and closed what felt like three times before an exasperated huff was released. Was her plan to seduce her boyfriend this evening? Absolutely. But would she be upset if Harry had accompanied Ron to Three Broomsticks? Well… not entirely. She would feel let down, but she knew that his attendance on what she assumed was a date was well-meant. She truly did not get a lot of time to see her friends and perhaps Ron was just trying to be cognisant of that?

"You know what, I'm going to go. I'm already running late." Shutting down the conversation seemed like the only logical way out of this. Especially when it had been set up to make it look like she was dating an utter moron who wouldn't make a move on her.

Hermione moved quickly towards the portrait hole they had all been congregating in front of, and when Malfoy reached out to open it for her, she looked up and caught his gaze once more as a soft thanks was whispered.

She couldn't help but notice his intoxicating cologne smell in this proximity. She had only just learned the scent a week ago, but now that it was back it made her mouth water. Was it Cedar? No, perhaps Sandalwood? Whatever the scent was, she was positive it should be illegal to smell as he did. Especially since she was a taken witch. She needed space, yes! Space would make her forget about how utterly stimulating his presence was. Moving quickly through the portrait hole, Hermione headed down the hall to make her escape.

"Oh, Granger. Before you run off," Theo called out to her retreating form as he followed her through the opening into the drafty dungeon hallway.

Didn't Theo realise she needed to get the bloody hell away from them!? Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione slowed to a stop and glanced over her shoulder towards the wizard. "Yes?"

"Since you're popping down to Hogsmeade and all," Theo began, waving his hand nonchalantly towards the end of the hallway. "Think you'd mind picking up a few bottles for us? Our supply is getting rather low and the Headmistress has yet to allow us the privilege of venturing to Hogsmeade on our own during the school session."

Hermione's brow knit at Theo's words in temporary disbelief. They were all legal adults in both Wizarding society and Muggle at this point; why on earth would she bar them from anything beyond possibly drinking, smoking, and fornicating on campus (although the first of those rules was obviously being broken to the tune of once per week, minimum)? "She doesn't let you leave?" Hermione questioned, as if clarifying what Theo had said would make her hear the answer any differently.

"No," the brunette replied slowly as he dropped his eyes to his wrist, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. "I'm afraid those of us with parents who were on the wrong side of the war do not get the same benefits as the rest."

When Theo lifted his eyes back up to her with the silent question of if she would help them still burning on his lips, she realised for the first time that this group of friends was feeling a sort of prejudice they likely had never experienced before. She had had years to develop thick skin against baseless attacks, but Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Daphne most certainly had not. They were now being lumped into the same category as people who took the mark and acted against The Order during the war.

"Oh...I didn't know… but um… yes. Sure. I'll pick some up," she agreed as the gnawing sense of guilt began to wash over her. She was free to do as she pleased. McGonagall had pretty much given her a pass to leave campus whenever her heart desired. The Headmistress damn near let her take her N.E.W.T's at the beginning of term just so Hermione need not bother herself with another year at Hogwarts, while this group of students was under strict surveillance. They were not without fault, that was not something anyone could argue. She could distinctly remember Harry's retelling of how the witch demanded they hand him over to Voldemort before the Battle of Hogwarts, but at the same time they were still human. Allowed to make mistakes, and recover from those choices. They certainly should not be punished for the crimes of their parents.

Hermione could forgive them for their pasts, she could forgive them for the disparaging remarks, and she could even forgive Malfoy for everything he had done to her and her friends. She might not ever forget, but forgiveness was obtainable. Which begged the question: if she could, why couldn't McGonagall?

"Splendid," Theo announced with a single clap of his hands as a well placed smile washed over his features to hide any sort of resentment he might have felt only moments ago. "I'll reimburse you when you get back from your visit."

"Date," Hermione corrected as she unfolded her peacoat and slipped it on, letting the thick wooly jacket hang open as she moved her hands into her pockets. Out of the corner of her eyes, which were purposefully glued to Theo, she could see Draco roll his eyes at the correction as he helped Daphne through the portrait.

"Of course. Slip of the tongue. Date," Theo agreed. Whatever she wanted to call the trip to Hogsmeade was not any of his concern, although the disagreeable blonde wizard of their group might feel otherwise. As Hermione turned once more to begin down the corridor to the flight of stairs that would take her to the bottom floor of the Grand Staircase, a flicker of mischief flashed behind his eyes. "Oh and do give Potter and Weasley our warmest regards, won't you?"

Hermione didn't bother to reply to Theo's request. He knew full well that if Hermione passed the message along to Ron, then her boyfriend would begin to question her sanity as to why she was choosing to spend her time with them. Although, he would technically be wrong, wouldn't he? She had just spent the entire week avoiding the pack of Slytherin's company. The details as to why she did weren't important though, not when she was mere minutes away from seeing her boyfriend for the first time in weeks.

Unfortunately, the thought did little to inspire the same burning in her core that it used to. Especially since as she took the last few steps in the hallway towards the staircase she could feel the familiar tingling of Malfoy's eyes on her skin, burning right through her own carefully built walls.

* * *

Once outside the schools grounds, Hermione Apparated the rest of the way to Hogsmeade. The biting cold wind autumn seemed to blow right through her peacoat. In the less than sensible heeled boots, she did not feel like turning into a complete popsicle before her boyfriend arrived, which helped inspire her to move quickly to the small Inn.

Selecting a table nearest the fireplace in Three Broomsticks, Hermione warmed her hands before removing her jacket and scarf and ordering two hot Butterbeers from Rosmerta in addition to the three bottles of wine and two bottles of Firewhiskey she was procuring for Theo. With a small canvas sack full of spirits and the promise of two Butterbeers to follow, Hermione made her way back to the table beside the fireplace and waited for what felt like ages for Ron to show up.

Her mind wandered as she sat, fingers tapping an impatient tune against the wooden tabletop. How would he feel about her mention of the room upstairs? Would he be delighted or annoyed? She knew his schedule was busy, as was her own, but surely the prospect of spending more than a couple hours together over a shared meal would be taken well, right? For the first time since securing the bed, she had begun to doubt her boldness.

Of course, then there was the fact that a small part of her was less excited than she should have been at the idea of any sort of bedroom activities with Ron. It wasn't that he was not adequate, no he managed to please her just fine...Or at least she thought he might? She wasn't really sure if the small bursts of pleasure she had felt during their romps compared to the 'earth shattering bliss' that Ginny had once described to her, but not all women experienced the same type of orgasm, right? No, her sex life (as limited as it was in its current state) was just fine. It was the simple fact that he was not the wizard she had been thinking about lately, and that small (trivial, really. Wasn't it?) fact terrified her more than it should have.

"'Mione!" Her nickname pulled her from her thoughts, and as she looked over her shoulder to find her red-headed wizard her heart sank two sizes as he came into view, because just over his shoulder was the smiling face of her best friend.

"Fuck," she breathed, pushing up from her chair and forcing a grin over her lips. It wasn't that she did not want to see Harry, no she loved their visits! But tonight was less than ideal. As Ron approached her first, she leaned up on her toes as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a quick hug. "I'm so glad to see you."

Ron's arm wrapped around her small waist, pulling her impossibly close as he pressed a kiss against her cheek, his cold nose brushing against her warm skin. "I'm glad to see you too, 'Mione," he returned, pulling back to look down at the beautiful witch he called his own. His hand went to her cheek, thumb brushing against her delicate jawline. "I've missed you." His cornflower blue eyes twinkled in the soft candlelight of the tavern and just as Hermione thought he was going to bend down and kiss her lips, he let her go to step aside to make room for Harry.

"Hullo 'Mione," Harry flashed his friend his boyish smile as he adjusted his frames up his nose. Once his glasses were in their proper place he held his arms open towards his friend in the offering of a hug as he stepped closer.

"Harry," she returned, her arms sliding around his middle. Her face smoothed against his chest as he enveloped her in a tight squeeze before letting her go. "You look well!" She kept him at arm's length for a moment, assessing him for a moment and she reached up to grasp his chin, carefully turning his head to the side once she noticed his right eye had a blooming bruise on his cheek. "Well… except for that."

"This? It's nothing," Harry scoffed, batting her hand away from his chin. "You should have seen the other bloke," he teased as he moved to the empty chair beside Ron. "Speaking of looking well, you look rather dressed up for this place. What gives?" Snatching the menu from Ron's hands, he folded it over to the back panel, emerald eyes scanning the list of dinner specials Romerta was offering this evening.

"Oi! I wasn't done with that," the red-headed wizard grumbled before turning his attention to Hermione, and for the first time that night he truly looked over her outfit before shrugging. "She looks the same as she always does, what are you talking about?"

And just like that Hermione felt less than two feet tall. Her hands smoothed her dress against her thighs as she sat opposite of her boyfriend, her cheeks twinging the softest shade of pink. She was thankful for the low lighting, because if she was lucky neither boy might notice her embarrassment. "I'm not dressed up, Harry. Just-" a heavy sigh was taken as she picked up her own menu to hide behind. "Out of my uniform is all."

"Right, because you often wear dresses in your free time," Harry quipped skeptically, looking at the witch over the top of his menu with a lifted brow before he glanced over to Ron, who was beginning to chew on a hangnail on his left thumb. Ron was his best mate, and he loved the man like a brother, but if he thought the makeup and heeled boots were an everyday attire for Hermione, he was absolutely delusional.

"She might now that she's not chasing us around the castle," Ron suggested before wiping his damp thumb across the pant leg of his jeans before reaching out to snag Hermione's hand from the side of her menu, causing it to go lopsided in her grasp.

"Speaking of the castle, how is everything at Hogwarts?" Harry questioned, folding up his menu after his internal debate between the hamburger and fish and chips. Both of which were not really the Three Broomsticks' specialty, which meant they were both subpar, at best. So the real question was if he wanted lukewarm fish or an undercooked burger. Setting the menu down at the end of the table, he laced his fingers together on the tabletop in front of him. "Ginny mentioned something about Professor Slughorn's latest experiment causing the potions rooms needing to be evacuated."

"He was always a nutter, that one. Knew one day he'd blow up the castle if given the chance," Ron mumbled, leaning back on the booth with his arm outstretched to still hold onto Hermione's hand.

"Ron, are you still sore about not being invited to the Slug Club?" Hermione questioned through a half grin before she looked back at Harry. While it was true, Slughorn could be a bit off at times, and he was far from her favorite Professor, he did his best to keep on top of not only the students, but also with the upcoming changes in the potions world. The wizard had had no intention of staying on for the next term after the war, and from what Hermione understood, he was doing McGonagall a favor while she tried to find a replacement Potions Master. "He was trying to brew a modified Dreamless Sleep, with less of a groggy period upon waking up, and I think he might had added a few too many spoonfuls of crushed Chizpurfle fang. It was between seventh year and fourth year potions though, so thankfully we had already completed our work for the week, but I do believe the rooms are still considered a hazardous zone by the Ministry until they can get the film and the slime left off the cupboards."

"Yeah, she mentioned she was a bit bummed it did not happen before class on Tuesday, but she seemed in good spirits when I saw her on the pitch so..." Harry shrugged, reaching out to pick up the pitcher of water that had been sitting on the table and pour himself a small glass.

Saw her on the pitch? Hermione looked taken aback for a moment, unsure if she had heard him right, but the thought was interrupted when the two glasses of warm Butterbeer floated to the table under the direction of the bar owner, who was only two a few paces behind. Ron reached out to secure the floating glasses, handing one off to Harry before taking a large sip of the other that he clearly intended to claim. And though it should have bothered her that he had not even thought to ask if she wanted it, she didn't mind because suddenly she no longer had the stomach to indulge.

Hermione let go of Ron's hand so she might hold down the hem of her dress as she crossed one leg over the other. "I'm sorry Rosmerta, we'll need just a moment," Hermione told the witch with a polite smile before she turned towards Harry. "Did you say you saw Ginny on Tuesday?" Hermione questioned with pursed lips.

The glass still up to his lips, and a little bit of foam on the tip of his nose, Harry gulped down the large mouthful of Butterbeer he had just taken. "Yeah. Why?" he questioned, his tongue darting out to collect the trace amounts of the Butterbeer off of his lower lip.

"Well I guess, I'm just confused," Hermione began, chocolate brown eyes moving from Harry to Ron as she crossed her arms over her bust as she leaned back against the wooden chair, doing little to hide the vexation from her tone.

"Oh bugger," Ron breathed, shooting a stern look at Harry because he knew what was coming.

"You see, Ronald told me that you both would be far too busy during the week to come visit me or Ginny beyond once or twice a month," Hermione explained, not taking her eyes from her boyfriend as she addressed Harry. Maybe Blaise and Theo were right.

"Well… I mean we are busy…" Harry hesitantly offered, his fingers tapping nervously against the warm mug in his hands as he looked between Rom and Hermione, perplexed.

"But not busy enough that you visited Ginny on Tuesday?"

"I…suppose not. We usually have some free time on Tuesdays after…" Harry gulped, watching as Ron widened his eyes at him as if to say 'STOP TALKING IMMEDIATELY'.

"After what?" Hermione pressed.

"After Quidditch League-OOW!" Harry's hand went to his collarbone, where Ron had delivered a poorly placed punched, his brow furrowing. "Merlin, Ron! It's not my fault you don't come!"

"Quidditch League?" Hermione's mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to determine the best way for her to begin questioning what the bloody fuck he thought he was doing, but instead all she could manage was to repeat what she had said at first. "Quidditch League?!"

"Oh, come on, 'Mione. You know how it is," Ron began, cornflower blue eyes softening on Hermione as he tried to reach across the small table to take a hold of her hands. "We're the new guys and it's kind of expected of us. We can't tell them no."

"Okay, fine. If that's the case, why is Harry able to come visit Ginny and you're not coming to see me? What is so bloody important?"

"I uh…. I-" Ron cleared his throat, reaching for his mug of Butterbeer and just as he lifted it to his mouth he mumbled, "Gohaveapintwiththeteam," in one quick breath before beginning to drink.

"E-Excuse me?" Hermione knew how this looked. She was playing the part of the crazy girlfriend well, but at this point in time she could barely believe what she was hearing. Ron, her boyfriend of six months, friend of nearly eight years, was purposefully avoiding opportunities to come see her because he wanted to have a drink with his… his new friends?

"I think he said he has a pint with the-Christ Ron, Stop!"

"Shut it!" Ron threatened Harry, twisting the sensitive skin he had pinched on the inside of Harry's elbow.

"Oh, I heard him. That question was rhetorical, Harry. Thank you," Hermione gritted through her teeth. "Here I was thinking my boyfriend missed me and was so bloody busy he couldn't sneak away to come visit. Merlin, what a bloody fucking joke." Hermione let loose a hollow laugh as she shook her head, and the hands that were carefully folded in her lap went to push the loose curls from her eyes.

"'Mione, it's not like that. Come on, you have to understand," Ron pleaded.

"You know what?" Hermione's tongue darted across her lips as she looked at her boyfriend, and for the first time it was like she was truly seeing him. She had just told the Slytherins that her relationship was 'as serious as it could be for a couple months' because that was the honest truth. She was committed to someone who could not be bothered to take a break from his Quidditch League to come see her while she finished her education. She had spent the week hating herself for a kiss that, quite frankly, was the best thing that had occurred to her in months. The guilt she had felt seemed almost laughable now, considering Ron clearly gave no precedence to their relationship. "No, I don't have to understand Ronald."

Hermione stood up from her chair so quickly her hip slapped against the wooden table, causing it to sting in protest and the mugs of Butterbeer to slosh around. She would have hissed in pain if it weren't for the fact it would have ruined the sort of dramatic effect she was looking for. "I'm going back to Hogwarts. I'm feeling a bit tired and rather put off by this whole evening now." Bending down she grabbed the canvas bag of spirits, hoisting it up onto her shoulders before gathering her jacket and scarf from the back of the chair.

"What? Wait, Hermione no!" Harry finally spoke up, glancing at Ron who was just staring at his mug, stewing on the row that had just occurred, and when Hermione began to march off towards the door he let out an exasperated sigh directed at Ron before he stood up and went after Hermione. "'Mione! Seriously, stop! Just-" Harry pleaded, reaching out to catch her shoulder as she reached the door.

"Harry, no," Hermione shrugged from his hold, turning to look at him, her hands clenched in her peacoat to hide the indignation she was currently feeling. This was beyond humiliating! Sure, Harry knew both of them well, but she wasn't keen on having a row in front of him. Especially not one that involved how he would rather go toss a fucking quaffle around a field for a couple hours over spending time with her. If Harry did not think her frigid before, how could he not now?! "This is not your battle. You can't keep making excuses for him." She hesitated a moment, her eyes drifting back to the table to look at Ron who remained unmoved since she left and she shook her head. "I'll see you in two weeks, okay? I just… I can't do this. Not right now." She turned from Harry and exited the Inn, no longer having the will to sit through listening to him explain away Ron's selfish behavior like she might have in the past.

She should have known better by now, for as kindhearted and as brave as Ron was, the wizard could also be egotistical and shortsighted. He was not malevolent in his faults, but they were still there. She had been able to excuse away some of it in their youth, and even now in the beginning of their relationship, but knowing he was placing spending time with her behind a fucking Quidditch League stung more than it should have. The cold night air bit her lungs like an awful reminder of the inner turmoil she was feeling as she moved quickly down the dirt road, her boots crunching the gravel with each hurried step towards the apparition point.

It did not take long to get back inside the castle grounds. The soft light from her wand lit her path to the main doors and she slipped inside unnoticed. Off in the distance she could hear the familiar whistle of Filch as he made his rounds for the evening, and for the first time this evening Hermione felt thankful that she had moved her "date" back two hours. Prefects patrol would have ended already and most of the castle would be asleep. It was Friday, but with Quidditch season beginning, most students were eager to get up early to attend tomorrow's game. It was also early enough that the night owls in the North Tower would likely still be up in their secluded room enjoying themselves.

Wiping her lipstick from her mouth with the back of her sleeve, she began to unpin her hair, shoving the bobby pins in her coat pocket, as she moved down the corridor to the Grand Staircase. She took her time moving down the steps to the dungeon, her mind wandering to how she came to have this expectation that Ron had evolved past boyhood and suddenly understood the intricacies of her innermost thoughts. It was her own fault, she reasoned, that she had come to expect more out of the evening. Perhaps she ought to have made it clear this was intended to be time for them? Or maybe she ought to have let him known about the room she had booked. Look where these expectations have gotten her: 45 galleons less in her pocketbook and left wondering what sort of relationship she was in. Because perhaps Ron did not see this as serious as she had thought?

"Murtlap Tentacle _,_ " Hermione announced to the sleeping portrait of Potions Master Swoopstrikes, who was seemingly startled out of his slumber at her voice. Without so much as a balk back to her, the portrait swung open and Hermione slipped inside and began towards the stairs at the back of the common room that would lead her up to bed, where she could continue the internal debate she was having with herself on whether she should take the blame for how the events of the night played out, or stop trying to excuse her boyfriend's terrible choices.

"You're back early," Malfoy's voice cut through her inner monologue like a knife, causing the baby fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand. "Wasn't a good visit?"

Draco had never made it to the North tower this evening. By the time they had reached the third floor, his mood had soured to the point where the thought of spending another minute with the four friends he had sounded stomach-churning. How was he supposed to indulge knowing she was seeing Weasley, especially dressed like that?

Using the excuse of a headache (one that he was certain Blaise and Theo saw right through), Draco took his leave and went back to the common room to wait. For what, he couldn't entirely say. Hermione was not his problem to claim, hell she was barely on speaking terms with him, but there was this sense that he needed to make sure she made it back safely he could hardly ignore. It bloomed to life nearly every time he was around her, and only seemed to grow larger since the beginning of the term.

With the Arithmancy book taken from the common room bookcase, he settled into the sofa in front of the fire (the one he had begun thinking as 'their' sofa unintentionally) and he began to busy himself with reading the next two chapters on their assigned reading list. He had only made it three quarters of the way through when the sound of the portrait swinging open pulled him from his concentration, and as he looked over his shoulder, his heart skipped a beat as he watched her move across the room, lost in thought.

The look on her face was clear as day. He had seen it before, fuck it was one he found staring back at at him in the mirror most mornings: the mixture if disappointment and self-loathing. On her though, it made his jaw clench because he knew who had caused it. The same ugly twat who made her wear that mix of emotions during their sixth year, when the lowest performing member of her trio started shacking up with Lavender Brown. He had thought it almost comical at the time, but now the fact that he had hurt her again caused Draco to have an unexplainable urge to pummel the wizard senseless. Wands be damned, the redhead clearly needed a old-fashioned walloping.

Laying his book in his lap, Draco twisted on the sofa, steely grey eyes tracking Hermione as she moved across the room, seemingly oblivious to his presence. "You're back early," he broke the silence, watching her jump in surprise. "Wasn't a good visit?"

Hermione's eyes, which were large and full of thought only moments before, looked as wide as saucers, as if the answer to his question might give away what little pride she had left. Malfoy was not on her list of people she wanted to run into this evening, especially since the normal inhabitants of the common room were fucking missing. No, she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how terribly her date had gone. "Why does it matter to you?" she questioned, her arms lifting to cross over her bust.

A slow smirk fell into place as he watched her subtle defiance, the way her back straightened, her nostrils flared just so. At times he thought perhaps she would have been better suited in Ravenclaw based on her merits, but it was moments like these, where she spoke her mind and stood her ground, that he knew she was entirely too Gryffindor for her own good. "I was just asking. You said we ought to know each other better… right?" he replied casually, letting each word linger in the air. "But if you'd rather go stow away in your bed and cry into your pillow, feel free."

Hermione's cheeks crimsoned at his first question. Get to know him better? At present she was barely content keeping him at arm's length because of that bloody fucking kiss! "Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be with your friends?"

"Studying." He lifted the book in his lap so she could catch a glimpse of the cover before he set it on the cushion next to him as he rose off the couch. The fire gave the silhouette of his frame a glow as he turned to face her completely. "Don't avoid the subject, Granger. How was your evening with…" He let his voice trail off, allowing her to finish his sentence as his eyes danced across her face.

"My night was great," she lied, her hand rising to tuck her curls behind her ears as she pursed her lips together while looking at him. She knew she should just walk away, leave the room before the conversation went any further, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. The way the firelight danced behind him gave him an almost warm glow. And his eyes, they were nearly feral. She could lie to herself all she wanted, but these feelings that he was dredging up were beginning to wear on her will to keep them at bay.

The only problem with her plan was that Draco need not be a Legilimens to see through her lie. He began towards her, his hands slipping into the front pockets of his black trousers as he moved around the sofa, slowly closing the distance between them. As he drew closer, his eyes ran over her lips, which were still pink from the stain of her rouge, and down the slender column of her neck where he noticed her pulse quicken under his gaze, the thick vein bulging ever so slightly with tension with each step he took. "You're a terrible liar, Granger," he whispered, silver eyes flicking back up to hers.

Gods, he was right. She was a shit liar, but what she did have was self-control. Something that while sober was much easier to have a grasp of. "Goodnight, Draco," Hermione cut off his interrogation, heels clicking loudly on the wooden floor of the common room as she brushed past him to the staircase. She was not in the mood to deal with… Whatever it was that was occurring between her and Malfoy. Not when she could barely explain where she stood with Ron. No, she did not need another kiss or accidental touch to make her mind feel any fuzzier than it already did.

Draco watched her go, tongue pressing into his canine tooth as he watched her shapely backside disappear up the stairs to the girls dormitory, and the only thing that seemed to replay in his mind was her words. She'd used his first name, and this fact was most certainly not lost on him. He could not remember a time she had ever addressed him by anything other that his family name (or, in all fairness, a various slew of expletives). The sound of it was like music to his ears, even in its tempered form. Biting his bottom lip, his head shook as he snuffed out the growing desire to run up the stairs after her and make her say it again.

Draco cast a fleeting glance over to the sofa-their sofa-at the discarded text book on the cushion and debated going to return it to the bookshelf where he had taken it from, but decided that it could be the House Elves' problems in the morning. Moving silently across the room, he moved down the small flight of stairs leading to the boys dormitory.

He passed the sleeping bunks of two Hufflepuffs and cast a quick Silencing charm on a snoring Ravenclaw's bed as he moved to the back of the room to his own bed. He made quick work of his button down, draping it over the trunk at the end of his bed before his toed off his black dragonhide loafers, sliding them just under his bed before loosening his belt and slipping his trousers from his hips. Just in his black boxer briefs, Draco pulled back the thick down comforter and slipped inside his bed, using his wand to draw his curtains and casting a silencing spell on his own bed before his wand was tucked under his pillow.

As he reclined back in bed, his ears still ringing with the sound of Hermione saying his name, his left hand went behind his head, fingers flexing in his flaxen hair as his right hand moved to the waistband of his boxers and slipped beneath them. As his eyes closed, images of Hermione flashed to the forefront of his mind, her supple lips parted just so, kneeling between his legs with her hands mimicking what he was beginning to do to himself. Her skirt spread taut across her thighs, those fucking knee socks cushioning her soft skin from the cold stone floor of the castle, and of course, between the slow licks she placed on his cock, a whisper of his first name on her lips.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note, I am working on a new fest piece that is due by Halloween (Dramione Fanfiction Writer's Tropefest), so my update in two weeks might be a tad late. I am hoping I can squeeze it all in though! Thank you all for reading. Thank you DisenchantedGlow for being my encouragement to write (and write, oh yeah. and write some more). Thank you to Islandgurl777 for beta'ing everything to perfection. <3 And thanks to you all for reading and commenting! xx


	5. The Library

_The Library_

* * *

The soft sound of his quill scratching against the parchment laid out before him was the only noise that would give away Draco's location, tucked away in the back of the library. He had moved from his regular spot near the Arithmancy section to Herbology, using the seldom visited section of the library as means of solitude so he could finish his Arithmancy paper that was due later this week. He had missed class on Monday, opting to stay behind in the common room to begin to formulate his plan on how he would win Granger over. He wasn't above showering her with gifts if needed, but figured that line of thinking was not something Hermione would react positively towards.

Besides, it wasn't like he wanted everyone to know about his interest in her. It was bad enough that Blaise, Theo and likely Pansy were aware of his budding infatuation with the curly haired swot. He did not need the rest of Hogwarts to catch wind, because if they did it would only be a matter of time before word made its way back to his mother. Narcissa had dutifully followed suit in dropping her blood prejudice post-war (truth be told Draco could not be certain of how dedicated she had been to that particular cause anyways), but if she was anything, she was a stickler for tradition. And he knew that him bedding a Muggleborn who happened to be one of the catalysts behind Voldemort's fall was likely not in her master plan for him.

Setting his quill down beside his parchment, Draco carefully lifted the thick paper up, eyeing the last sentence written before his eyes traveled upwards. Professor Vector had assigned five feet and currently he was about three inches short. He could, theoretically, move some words around. Perhaps embellish to meet the required length, but the idea of spending any more time discussing the nuances between Greek and Chaldean Arithmancy and how each paved the way in defining characteristics for the current standard the art is practiced by sounded rather exhausting. Especially since Granger seemed to linger in the back of his mind like a knick in the handle of his broomstick. Ever-present and only slightly annoying.

No, he was definitely done with the assignment. If Vector wished to pull the ruler to verify and dock him points, so be it. Setting down the parchment, Draco stood from the table. The wooden chair scraped against the stone floor as he lifted his arms above his head in a slow stretch, his spine popping in appreciation from no longer being hunched over the desk. His black jumper lifted from his beltline, exposing the hint of alabaster skin to the cold November air before he reached down to tug his clothing back into place. Leaning forward, Draco picked up the small inkpot and capped the lid back on the small glass vile before beginning to tuck his items back in his messenger bag.

With homework finally finished, it meant he could drop his things off in his dorm room before making his way down to the Quidditch pitch for an early evening ride to clear his head. He had a plan; he knew how he was going to win her trust so he could snake his way into her bedroom, but the means of initiating it were where he was stuck. His past with the witch could not be forgotten just because his cock got hard every time he thought about her. No, he needed an in, and preferably one where he did not have to grovel at her feet for forgiveness for his past sins. He had done enough of that to last him a lifetime in recent months while the trials were being held.

Just as he tucked away his quill and began to roll up his parchment, he heard the unmistakable banter of his two closest friends since the end of the war drifting through the bookstacks. Quickly twisting a self-tying piece of twine around the rolled parchment, he slipped it into his messenger bag before clasping it shut as the two wizards made their way towards the small opening he was in.

"Herbology? Circe, did you know they even made enough books to have a section on this?" Blaise questioned, his fingers running along the spine of a book before he glanced over to Theo with raised brows. "I mean, plants are outside. Just go fucking look at them."

Theo looked over to his friend, not at all surprised that the wizard had not ventured this far back in the library. In truth, the only reason Blaise even set foot in here after third year was likely because of Draco or himself. "Yes, one could find plants outdoors, Blaise. But typically they are not sentient and cannot explain their properties to inquiring minds… hence the books."

Reaching up, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand, his thumb and index finger pressing against the soft skin close to his eyes before he let out a heavy sigh and turned to look at them. "What are you two doing here?"

Theo leaned over, looking down the row Draco's voice trickled out of, and a large slow grin tugged up the corners his mouth. "Oh, there you are." Theo backed up three paces so he stood in the middle of the row's opening, his hands smoothing out the panels to the olive green vest he wore. "We've come to surprise you, actually. Quite hard to find you in here though."

Blaise followed after Theo, leaning against the bookshelf as he crossed his arms over his chest. "We come bearing gifts even," the dark skinned wizard explained to his friend, deep brown eyes twinkling mischievously. "We're like those weird Muggles with the hats who visited that Muggle baby in December. Except I think you'll like it more than some shitty oil."

Theo glanced over to Blaise, his brow furrowing as his head shook in disapproval. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"What?" Blaise questioned as he looked between the equally gobsmacked Draco and Theo. "Muggle Studies...don't you pay attention?" he asked, his right hand lifting at his question before he rolled his eyes and waved off their judgement. "Look, whatever. It's besides the point. We're here for Draco, remember?"

Lifting up his messenger bag to his shoulder, Draco carefully hoisted it over his head until the strap cross his body. He did not have time to play whatever little games the two felt like they needed to participate in tonight. "I don't want it," Draco told them both crisply as he moved to slip between the narrow opening between Theo and Blaise, moving past them quickly towards the main aisle which would lead him from the library.

Theo frowned, reaching out to smack Blaise in center of his chest for his little Muggle history lesson before moving quickly after Draco. "You don't even know what it is!" he exhaled quickly as he fell into step beside the blonde, carefully avoiding Madam Pince's stern gaze as she shushed the small group of Slytherin 8th years as they made their way through the heavy set of double doors that lead into the library.

"Look, unless you have a potion that could turn the roast they're serving tonight into something remotely palatable, I'd rather pass," Draco told Blaise and Theo who fell into easy step beside him as they moved down the busy hallway, careful to avoid the throng of fifth years who were descending the nearby staircase from Transfiguration.

"Oh, sweet, naive Draco," Theo clucked at his friend, clicking his tongue almost disapprovingly at the blonde. "What we have is far more valuable than any tangible item."

"Oh?" Draco hesitated a moment, glancing towards the brunette before glancing forward as he made his way towards the grand staircase, black loafers carrying him on the well-worn path to the dungeons. It was nearly second nature by now, moving around Hogwarts. Fuck, he had been here nearly half his life. It seemed, at times, this place might be more a home than Malfoy Manor had ever been. "Fine...what is it?"

"Wait!" Blaise interrupted just as Theo opened his mouth to tell Draco what they had for him, reaching out to pull both Draco and Theo to a halt just at the bottom of the staircase. "Before you tell him, Theodore…I feel like we need to impress that this act of generosity should receive some sort of recognition," he explained with a small smirk.

"Oh, you're quiet right, Blaise," Theo agreed, seeming to catch on to whatever his friend was implying. "You know, you might not always be bright, but sometimes you really do shine."

"Yeah-wait, who says I'm not bright?"

"Oh you know...people," Theo replied nonchalantly, green eyes dropping to the floor as he buffed his nails against his chest before examining them, using the act to avoid making eye contact with his friend who was accusingly narrowing his eyes at him.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. You two are absolutely aggravating. What the bloody hell did you want to tell me?" Draco snapped at the pair, pulling their attention away from each other. Steely gray eyes flicked between each of their faces expectantly as his hand rose to adjust the strap to his messenger bag on his shoulder.

Theo glanced behind them, as if to check if the coast was clear before he reached out and grasped Draco's arm, guiding him further away from the staircase and towards their common room. Carefully out of care of any nosey sixth or seventh years who liked to linger about. "Well...Today Professor Vector partnered up deskmates after today's lecture-" he began, motioning for Blaise to walk on the other side of Draco as they seemed to slow to a leisurely pace.

"Well, considering you normally sit by that MacDougal girl from Ravenclaw so you can cheat off her, I don't understand how any of this would be a fucking 'present' for me," Draco interrupted

"Wait, you don't sit by me because you cheat off MacDougal?" Blaise asked incredulously from the other side of Draco, dark eyes narrowing on Theo as more and more of the wizard's little secrets were coming to light.

"No, I sit by Macdougal because you sit next to Pansy, Blaise," Theo drawled, big green eyes rolling at the accusation. "If I happen to…I don't know… say, glance at her work during a test then so be it."

"This is Thestral-shit. I'm switching seats," Blaise grumbled, his hands sliding into his trousers pocket.

"This is really beside the point though, because I did not sit by Macdougal today," Theo explained.

"And why would this be of interest to me? Because so far none of this is matters," Draco questioned. He could not help but feel like this story was taking much longer than needed. Theo, who had turned out to be more of an ally post-war than Crabbe and Goyle, did have a flare for the dramatics that left Draco on edge more often than not. "Honestly, I don't really have time for this contrived storytelling. Can you just get to the bloody point already?"

"Because he sat by Granger, you fuck. He convinced Vector to switch partners so he could be with Macdougal again, which at the time I did not understand because they're both getting top marks but now I clearly get it," Blaise chuffed, shaking his head. "Merlin, you guys say I'm thick but I'm sure a blind man could have seen that coming."

"Blood hell, Zabini!" Theo scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air as he halted in the middle of the hallway just a few yards away from the portrait hole that lead to their common room. "Take the fucking wind from my sails, why don't you?"

"Well, we're not on the ocean, and you're not a fucking boat so that might be a bit difficult, _Nott_ ," Blaise snarked back, his head cocking definitely at the wizard.

"It's a figure of speech, you wanker," Theo quipped back, his lips thinning in obvious annoyance at the wizard's antics. This was his idea! Sure, he was going to let Blaise take some of the credit but he was loosely involved, at best.

"Yeah? Well you can _figure_ out how to make it through Arithmancy on Wednesday without Macdougal because I'm sitting next to her from here out."

"Really? I'm sure your girlfriend will find that absolutely fucking enlightening. Avoiding her company in favor of another woman's."

"Oh piss off! I can handle-"

"Blaise, shut the fuck up," Draco snapped, his mind still reeling from the surprise news that was just dropped in his lap. It was fucking perfect. His way in. Whether Theo or Blaise knew it or not, this was quite possibly the best news he had gotten since he had figured out Hermione might fancy him back, even just the slightest bit. "Granger is my partner?" he confirmed, gray eyes finding Theo's green again in the softly lit hallway.

Theo's foul mood seemed to instantly vanish when he noted the unmistakable hint of elation brimming at the edge of the normally cool wizard's voice. He could deal with Blaise and his claim to Macdougal's brain later; this was far more important. "Yes, Granger is your partner." His voice was almost singsongy as he confirmed Draco's question. "I'll take your gratitude in the form of liquor, or chocolates. Although, I would like to note you always have the option of sending both."

Draco nodded, his tongue darting out to run across his lower lip as the hint of a smile placed on his face. He could fucking kiss Theo right now! This was fucking perfect. "This is...this is brilliant. Thank you," Draco began to back away from the pair, heading back in the direction he had just come from, his hand tugging up the strap of his messenger bag to put it in place as turned his back to his friends to begin down the hallway. "I'll find you both later...I need to go! I have some things to get." His voice echoed down the hallway, barely audible over the sound of his shoes clicking hurriedly against the stone floor.

"Wait, where are you going?" Blaise called out, a manicured black brow lifting as he watched the blonde wizard make a hurried exit towards the grand staircase. When no response was given, Blaise looked at Theo expectantly, as if he was the code needed to determine why Draco needed to take a hasty exit after their seemingly wondrous news. "Where the fuck is he going?"

Theo shrugged, reaching up to brush the soft fringe of brown from his forehead, carefully collecting his appearance before turning to close the distance between where he stood and the portrait. "Who knows. Probably to an empty classroom because he creamed his pants with excitement over the possibility of spending an endless amount of hours with that swot revising."

"Oh. I should probably warn him," Blaise murmured as he moved up next to Theo, who had opened up the portrait to allow them both to slip inside. "Granger really takes revision far too seriously."

* * *

For the past nine years, whenever Hermione felt lonely, stressed or homesick she would read. It was always the same text, yet no matter how many times she had read it, it seemed to cure whatever ailment she felt. She had nearly memorized the entire book from front to back, but there was something almost magical about it. The way the words spoke to her coming off the pages, the pictures beautifully accenting what the storyteller was trying to convey or explain.

Her fingertips on her right hand brushed softly against the well-worn page of Hogwarts: A History as she read the chapter on the Astronomy tower construction and how Rowena Ravenclaw self-funded the addition because she felt that education of the stars held greater possibilities of foretelling the future than divination. Although she was reading the words, and theoretically absorbing them, they did little to stay anywhere in her mind because she was so consumed with how poorly her date with Ron had gone. Beyond that, it had been five days and he had not bothered to send an owl as an apology.

Perhaps it really was over, and shouldn't she be grateful? They were clearly at two different places in their lives. In truth, it seemed they had only been on the same page for about two weeks post-war before life took them on very different paths. Hermione's path was that of self-discovery through means of education, while Ron's seemed to be exploring his newfound fame through the means of making as many friends as possible. Sighing, she closed her eyes as she reached up to press her fingers into the pressure points at the base of her neck, trying to relieve some of the strain that had built after spending the past two hours hunched over the table in the library.

As the clocktower chimed to signal the beginning of supper, Hermione half debated making her way to join her fellow classmates for the meal instead of grabbing a sandwich from the kitchens later, but the remainder of the chapter was like a siren's song, calling her back to finish it even though she already knew it by heart. Her fingers slipped up her neck, feeling each aching vertebrae until they tunneled between the small curls at the base of her nape to press slightly on the small knot that had begun to form, and just as a small feeling of bliss from the pressure began to build, letting her thoughts slip from Ron and the possibility of being single (it wasn't like she had much practical experience with breaking up with someone, so this could plausibly be how it was done...right?), the soft click from the lamp directly to her right being turned off pulled her back to reality.

Her hand dropped back to the tabletop before chocolate brown eyes opened just in time to watch a familiar blonde take the seat next to her without a second glance her way. Her thoughts that had been consumed with the state of her relationship seemed to vanish as she watched him begin to pull out several books from his messenger bag, clearly making himself at home right next to her despite the amount of empty desks that were available all over the library.

She had not seen him since last Friday, and while this should not have bothered her considering she had avoided him like the plague last week, she was curious as to where he had been. At first she had assumed it was just bad timing, but when he had been decidedly absent this morning from classes, she could only assume his avoidance of her was on purpose. Which was why it was baffling he would select the seat directly to her right to occupy.

Hermione opened her mouth and closed it three times as she tried to decide how she could ask him what the bloody hell was going on. It seemed there was no logical way to approach this topic, which left her in a precarious place of either being too presumptuous by bringing it up, or just rude. Leaning forward, she placed her elbows on the wooden desktop, as she tried to catch a good look at his face to read his expression.

"Is there a reason you're staring, Granger?" Malfoy's voice ripped right through her psyche to her soul, sending a shot of electricity straight to her core. That coupled that with the fleeting glance from the corner of his eyes, she could feel her heart begin to thump an unsteady rhythm.

"W-what? I'm not staring…" she stammered out, instantly averting her gaze back to the text in front of her. Reaching forward to grasp both sides of the book, she pulled it towards her as she straightened her spine and internally scolded herself for letting his mere presence affect her so greatly. "I…I was just wondering where you had been. That's all."

"Oh. Missed me already?...That didn't take long, did it?" Draco smirked, turning in his chair to watch a small twinge of red blossom on the apple of her cheeks at his accusation.

"No!" She did not miss him, per se. Was she curious about where he had been? Absolutely. Was she slightly bothered he had clearly been avoiding her, despite the fact that she did the same damn thing a week earlier...maybe. But this was besides the point! He had been absent for the past three days; she was well within her rights to inquire about it. They were supposed to be friends right? Getting to know one another better and all that nonsense. This is what friends did.

"Well, you noticed I was gone…"

"I would have noticed if any of the 8th years were gone," she retorted. Closing her book with a small snap, Hermione laid it down in front of her because it was clear that no further reading was going to happen anytime soon. Not with him being so bloody close to her. It seemed the assault Malfoy had to her senses was far greater than any distraction her favorite text could provide. Especially since he was so close she could breathe in the mouth-watering scent that was uniquely Draco-fucking-Malfoy. Sandalwood, parchment and a hint of mint. She never knew she was so in tune to how delectable he smelt until this very moment and it was almost intoxicating.

Draco nodded his head in slow mock-agreement as he set an elbow on the table so he could prop his fist under his chin as he eyed the obviously flustered brunette. If she only knew what he had in store for her. How he planned to make her exceptionally more confounded before their year was through, she might rethink her plan of befriending him. "Ri-ight," he began, letting his eyes drop from hers to run the length of her neck, letting them linger across the opening of her crisp white button-down that hinted at what lay beneath. "Just admit you missed me, Granger."

"You wish, Malfoy," she scoffed, brown eyes rolling.

"Perhaps I do…" He let his words linger, giving away the double meaning as his eyes found hers once more and there was a hunger in his that awakened that flicker of desire in her, causing her thighs to press together in response.

Hermione turned in her chair, squaring her shoulders so she faced completely forward, hoping to use the shield of her curls to hide her crimsoning blush from him as she cleared her throat. "W-Were you sick or something?" That's right, best to avoid any topic involving what he wished in regards to her. Those could only lead to other...more confusing subjects she was not sure she was ready to learn yet.

"Something like that, I suppose." His hand on the desktop twitched. He was tempted to reach out and sweep the curtain of hair from her face so he could watch her body's blatant reaction to his words and innuendo but thought better of it. She was sticking around long enough to allow the conversation to continue, which was a good sign, but he did not want to ruin this because he couldn't control his actions. No, better to play it safe and keep his hands to himself...for now.

"And are you feeling better now?" Hermione questioned, letting her hands smooth over the cover of her book before she picked it up to stuff it back in her bookbag that lay open on the desk to her left, busying herself so she did not have to look at him and let herself be pulled into his magnetism.

"In general, no," Draco began, leaning back so the arm of the wooden chair pressed against his lower back as he watched her rifle through her belongings in search of something. Using the opportunity of her back being turned to him, he allowed himself to run his eyes down her frame. As always, she was in that damn uniform. The skirt...the knee socks. They all helped play depraved images in his mind like some sort of pornographic movie reel specifically designed to drive him wild. "But right now. Yes. I would say I feel as though I made a dramatic recovery."

When she began to withdraw another book from her bag, Draco turned in his chair to face forward, shifting to find comfort because his trousers suddenly felt rather small. Scooting closer to the desk, he used it to shield his hand as he tried to adjust himself through his pants, so she might not notice the growing bulge.

"What are you even doing here?" Hermione reached up, tucking her curls behind her ears once she felt like her blush was adequately under control and she stole a glance at him once more. Watching as he seemed to stare a hole into the desktop in front of him as he shifted in his seat. Better yet, what the hell was he doing right now? Sitting beside her like nothing had occured between them. Opening up her History of Magic text, Hermione pulled her attention back to the rather poorly written history book. They had a required reading on the Dragon Wars of 1740 that was supposed to be done before class tomorrow, and although she had read it twice over the weekend, he wasn't aware. It would look less suspicious for her to stay under the pretense of work and ask him questions rather than spelling out she was staying just to interrogate him.

"Well...now I know this must come as a shock considering the character of people you normally associate with, but generally speaking, people come to the library to study," Draco teased as he gestured to the small pile of books he had, as well as a thick leather bound notebook he favored for taking notes over loose parchment.

Hermione cringed, her hand going up to rest against her forehead. "Oh..right...of course. Sorry." Of course he was coming to fucking study! It was the library, not some social gathering. Shaking her head, she tried to clear the fuzziness from her mind that his proxminity was causing and she opened up her book, fingers flicking through the chapters until she made it to their assigned reading section.

The pair fell into a silence as they both seemed to settle in, reading in comfortable silence side by side, only the sound of Draco's quill scratching against the pages in his notebook providing their soundtrack as the other students who had lingered past the supper bell filed out of the room. Madam Pince quietly cast the return books to file themselves away before she took her break for dinner. The librarian did not bother to interrupt the studying pair of 8th years, especially since Hermione was one half of them, on her way out.

As the minutes ticked by, Hermione could feel the skin on the back of her neck tingle from time to time and she knew Malfoy's eyes were making their way across her skin instead of the book he had opened before him. Her hand rose, coming to rest against the side of her neck so she could press her fingers against the goosebumps in hopes of suppressing her reaction to his gaze. They were adults, weren't they? She was twenty, and Draco had to be near there as well. They could have an adult conversation about what had happened. Perhaps it would allow them both some clarity?

And if they discussed it, like adults, and he admitted the kiss was a mistake (which it clearly had been!) then she could allow herself to get over this schoolgirl crush. But part of her hoped it wasn't. Hell, he had just been flirting with her, hadn't he? _'Perhaps I do'._ Hermione wrinkled her nose as his words replayed in her mind and she shook her head silently. Who did Malfoy think he was? He couldn't just snog someone and expect nothing to be said about it! No, Hermione was most certainly not that type of witch.

Clearing her throat, she reached out to shut her text before twisting her chair to face Draco once more, watching as he did not react to the snap of her book or the noise from her chair scraping slightly against the floor as she shifted about. "We should talk."

Draco let out a soft exhale through his nose, only allowing the smallest bit of emotion out before masking his face as apathetically as possible before putting a finger on his book to presumably mark his spot (secret: he was not even reading. Just buying his time until his secret glances and accidently brushes of his arm against hers drove her to this point). Turning he lifted a brow at Hermione. "Hrmm?"

"About what happened," she explained, crossing her legs at the knee, carefully tugging down her skirt out of nervousness as she awaited some sort of explanation or reaction beyond the blank stare she was being given.

"...what happened...?" His voice trailed off as he feigned ignorance, looking at her like she might be going daft.

"You know...what happened… Two weeks ago." The courage she felt only seconds ago began to be replaced with doubt. He couldn't have forgotten already...could he? I mean sure, it was just a quick kiss, but given their history surely it stood out amongst all the other kisses he had shared with other girls. Right?!

"You joining us for the night cap?"

"After that." Fuck...he did forget.

"You mean me walking you down to your dorm?" Draco lifted his hand from his book to brush his short blonde hair back off his forehead. "Generally speaking it is considered a chivalrous act for a man to walk a woman through a cold dreary castle, but in the future if you wish to make a go of it alone, I can respect that. Girl-power and all, isn't that what you lot are saying now-a-days?"

Sweet merciful lord, did he just quote the Spice Girls? Shaking her head, her hand lifting to cut him off before he could continue. "I meant the kiss, Malfoy. The bloody kiss!"

"Ooh, yes… that." Draco nodded in fake remembrance. Gods, she really was too easy to goad. wasn't she? Did Weaslebee and Scarhead never tease the witch in all their years together? "What about it?"

What about it? WHAT ABOUT IT?! Was he absolutely insane? Had he been dropped on his head as a small child? Her eyes went wide as saucers as she looked at him, her mouth slightly ajar at his aloof demeanor toward the whole ordeal. "..Don't you think we should discuss it?"

"I'm not entirely certain what you think there is to discuss, Granger." Draco reached down to grab the wooden arms of the chair and pick it up off the floor, moving the chair until he was facing her before setting it down and leaning back with an air of casualty about the whole process. "But please enlighten me on why you think this is important enough to disrupt my revising. What about our kiss is bothering you?"

Hermione gulped, her jaw setting as she looked at him, so calm and collected. It was like he was discussing the weather instead of the seemingly passionate snog they had shared. It was almost infuriating. "Well...for starters, why did you kiss me?"

Draco chuckled, his hand going up to smother his smile when her eyes narrowed menacingly on him and he wiped at the corners of his lips as he tempered the delight he took in getting under her skin. "I'm pretty certain the blame could be mutually shared, Granger."

"Possibly…" Her voice trailed off and she glanced down to her lap where her fingers picked at the hem of her skirt before letting her eyes find his once more. Not wanting to draw attention to her partial confession, she continued, "But it doesn't change the fact you initiated it."

Draco's heart raced. She had returned the kiss, just as he thought. And if he had to guess from the soft glow of pink beginning from her cheeks down to her neck, she likely still felt whatever this electricity was between them. Leaning forward, Draco put his hands on each of his knees, closing a bit of the distance between them. "Am I not allowed to kiss you, Granger?"

"No...Uh..y-yes. Well..I-I don't know," Hermione babbled as she was sure her face changed into a deep crimson. He was not going to make this easy was he? As Draco leaned in, she let her eyes drop to his mouth, letting them trace over his soft lips, remembering the way they felt sliding against hers, causing another electric shock to run between her heart and core. "Why did you do it? I mean…you hate me. Right? Don't you?"

"Hate is such a strong word," Draco chuckled. "But to answer your question, no. I don't hate you. If I'm being honest, I don't even hate Potter. Although I would deny it if you ever told anyone I said that." He scooted forward in his chair until he was perched on the edge. "When I was younger I was misguided...things change. People change. It happens all the time."

"What changed then?"

"Maybe I realised you weren't quite as bad as I thought you were…or maybe it's because you're not surrounded by two imbeciles and I can finally get a good read on who you are," Draco suggested, because the truth was he was not sure what about it had changed. It was not overnight, he knew that much, and it was something he had fought himself over for years. In the past it was easy to ignore because of everything else that was going on in their lives, and of course, because she was Muggleborn. But the world was different now. The stigma was not as strong…and perhaps if he had just the smallest taste he could pull himself out from under whatever spell she had cast on him. Reaching out, he placed his hands on either arm of the chair she sat in, carefully beginning to pull her closer towards him in what he knew was a bold move, but he knew he had to take a small leap if he was going to convince her whatever was between them should be happening. "But can't you ask yourself the same question…seeing as you kissed me back?"

Hermione's eyes flashed down to his hands, her body straightening up in the chair like an invisible rod was in her spine as he pulled her closer, only stopping once her knees touched the wooden seat to his chair between his own parted legs. She should stop this, really, truly stop this. She might be single (possibly? That was still up for debate) but he was Draco Malfoy...and she most certainly did not need to get involved with someone like him. Especially not because she was supposed to be using this time at Hogwarts as a way to collect her thoughts before facing the 'real world'. "I-I was confused."

"And now? Are you still confused, Granger?" Draco leaned in more, his own knees pressing against the soft wood of her own chair as he very slowly, but surely, closed the distance between them, careful to give her ample time to stop him should he be trying this too soon.

"No…maybe-I'm not certain." Hermione's hands let go of her skirt to move to the arms of her chair, the tips of her fingers brushing against the soft skin of his hands that still clung to the furniture she sat in and she bit her bottom lip.

"Perhaps we should try it again...see if it's still confusing the second time around."

"We probably…shouldn't."

"Because of our past?"

"Because I might not want to stop," Hermione admitted.

"...Then don't."

That was all the sign that Draco needed. His right hand rose from the arm of the chair and moved to her crimsoned cheek and guided his mouth to hers. The same spark he had felt two weeks ago only seemed to have intensified since their first kiss, causing his heart to skip a beat. The world seemed to disappear, and the silence of the library was replaced by the steady pounding of his heartbeat, which seemed to speed up the longer they kissed. Her lips were soft, velvet-like against his, and he was eager to see if she tasted as good as he remembered. His tongue slipped between his lips, brushing softly against her bottom lip, silently requesting entrance to her mouth. This felt right, this kiss, having her in his arms, the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips. This was exactly what should be happening. Not studying for some nonsense fucking test that was never going to have any sort of practical application post-graduation.

Hermione's hands moved to Malfoy's chest, her fingers spreading wide across the expanse of his chest, feeling his heartbeat thump wildly against her palm before her hands curled into the crisp pressed fibers of his shirt when his teeth scraped against her bottom lip. All thoughts of how wrong this was were gone, and all that mattered in this moment was how fucking fantastic it felt when his tongue slipped between her parted lips to brush against hers. She was not sure she had ever been kissed like this; it felt like he was replacing her body's dependence on oxygen. Like all she needed was for him to kiss her like this for the rest of her days and she would live a long and happy life. And for the first time ever, she felt truly desired. When his hand moved from her cheek to tunnel into the curls on the side of her head, his short nails scraped lightly against her scalp as he fisted into her hair so he could angle her mouth just so, she keened. Her moan was swallowed up by his mouth, his tongue gliding against hers in an attempt to elicit more sounds to tumble from her core. She could feel a warmth beginning to pool in her panties, soaking the soft cotton as he pulled her impossibly close, despite the fact they were both perched in their own wooden chairs.

And just as quickly as it began, Draco pulled away. His teeth tugged softly on her bottom lip as he parted from her, taking deep, uneven breaths. His forehead pressed against hers, and for just a moment he thought he might lose control of himself in the moment and kiss her once again. He wanted to see what other little noises she might make. Would her nails scratch harder against him if he kissed down her neck? Would she let her thighs part if his hand slipped under her skirt? His mind seemed to spin with the possibilities, but he knew he had to wait to figure out all her little nuances. Before coming to the library, he had planned out exactly how this was going to go tonight, numerous times, and rushing into the more carnal activities so he could determine the best way to make her moan was not part of tonight's plan, despite what his cock was currently telling his brain.

Sliding his hand from her hair, his fingers carefully tucked her soft curls behind her ear before trailing down her delicate jaw so he could stroke the side of her neck. "Do you still think I hate you?" he voiced breathlessly against her lips.

Hermione shook her head no, not yet finding her voice post-kiss. Frankly at this point she was certain it was lost in his mouth and she might need to kiss him again so he could return it, but she knew that would not bode well. Especially since the dinner hour was nearly up, which meant people would start filtering back into the library at any moment to finish their Monday night revisions.

"Good," he chuckled, pulling back just enough to allow him to look at her face. Her hair was a mess on one side, curls broken and beginning to frizz, her cheeks still flushed red and her lips swollen. She was stunning, even in this state, but he would never admit that out loud to anyone but himself. Especially since this was not going to last past a couple months. What use was getting too invested when nothing long term could come fromt this? Before she could open her eyes, he leaned back in, pressing a soft kiss to her pouty lips once more. There was no fever this time, as there had been moments ago. This was sweet, soft. It was something he knew she would have never expected from him.

When the sound of the library door against the stone floor cut through the silence of the library, Hermione was the first to pull back. Her hands let go of his shirt as she moved back into her chair and the fingers from her right hand moved to touch her lips, her heart still beating an uneven rhythm beneath her ribs. She had never found herself alone with Draco before in all her years at Hogwarts, but now it had happened twice in the span of two weeks and each time had ended with them kissing. What the fuck was she doing? She shouldn't want this, she shouldn't feel this way. "I should go…" The decision was weak, because in truth she desperately wanted to feel his lips back on hers again. She wanted to climb into his overly-inviting lap and lose herself in his intoxicating scent and addicting kiss, and she was scared that if she did not leave she would end in playing out these fantasies in the middle of the library. No, she needed some space from him. Space was good. It would allow her time to think properly once her blood as returned to her brain.

Go? Wait a moment. Draco's brow furrowed as he watched Hermione begin to scoop up her things and shove them into her book bag hastily. But she had kissed him back! The soft scratches her nails left on his chest still stung as a pleasurable reminder that this was most certainly not one-sided. Which begged the question:why..Why would she run?! Fuck! This was not in the plan. She was supposed to be like putty in his palm at this point; he was supposed to snog her senseless and leave her begging for more, not the other way around. Reaching out, Draco did the only logical thing he could conclude in the moment. Catching her wrist, he paused her retreat. "Can I walk you?" he asked as he quickly stood, sending the chair scraping against the stone floor with a loud screech.

"W-What?" Hermione's voice squeaked, her brown eyes wide as she looked up at him. Her head had to tip up to look him in the eye due to their height difference. How had she never noticed how tall he was before? He easily had a foot on her, if not more. She had known him for nearly nine years, and was just now realising how much taller he was than her? Had she really not paid him any notice before now? It would make sense, considering all he had done was pester her in their youth, but she seemed almost taken aback. How much else was there that she did not know about him? Probably more than she would like to admit after sharing a rather intimate kiss with him.

"Can I walk you back to the dorm?" His eyes implored her to allow him, his pulse quickening at the thought of her running from him. They had played this game once before, and he was less than eager to replay it this time around. No, he needed to choose how he handled this differently than last time. He wasn't going to let her slip away.

"Oh.. Uh." Hermione let her eyes fall to his hand on her wrist. His skin was so much paler than her own, and it was almost ironic because their differences definitely did not stop there. They were two very different people, from vastly different backgrounds and who should not even be humoring whatever this was between them. But she was right when she said she was scared if this started she wouldn't be able to stop. He made her feel things that she had only read about in romance novels her mother had hidden on the top shelf of the bookcase in the study. She couldn't even begin to imagine the things he might make her feel if they… "Sure. I mean.. We are going to the same place, right?" Perhaps it was already too late to change her mind.

Draco seemed to visibly relax at her accepting his offer of escorting her back from the library, and he released a small puff of air before gathering his own belongs to hastily shove them in his messenger bag before the strap was hoisted over his head and onto his shoulder. Hermione stood beside the heavy set of double doors, her fingertips running over her kiss-swollen bottom lip as an almost far away look set in her eyes, not noticing when he approached her. "Here, let me get this."

Hermione jumped at his words, and when she felt his hand slide the thick strap of her book bag from her shoulder she reached out to try and take it back from him, but her reaction time seemed almost dazed in the wake of their lip lock. "Oh no, it's okay. I can carry my own bag," she tried to explain as she to snatch her back back.

"Merlin, Granger. What the fuck do you carry in this thing?" Draco lifted the overly heavy bag onto his shoulder before his hand dropped to peek at the contents inside the bag. When her small hand reached closer to him, he took two large steps back from her reach. "Absolutely not. I know your friends were not taught better, but a man is supposed to carry a lady's bag, even if it is weighed down with bricks."

"This is not the eighteen hundreds. I am capable of carrying my own things, Malfoy," Hermione protested, her hands going to her hips before letting out an exasperated sigh and moving through the library door he was holding open for her when it was obvious he was not planning on giving in to her requests.

"You know, the proper thing to say would be thank you," Draco remarked as they fell into an almost leisurely pace as they the walked down the hallway. He couldn't help but notice that Hermione was making sure to give herself plenty of room to avoid any accidental touch.

"Why would I say thank you when I did not ask for your help?" Hermione replied, glancing over to him before picking up the pace so she could make it through the narrow opening to the grand staircase, her hand resting on the well-worn banister as she began to descend the staircase to the dungeons.

"Because it's polite," he explained, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he took advantage of her speed, and let his eyes wander to her backside, watching the way her skirt swayed against her thighs with each step down the stairs.

"Well, I will thank you when I get my bag back, and also ask that you never do this again."

The remainder of their short walk was done in awkward silence, with Draco providing the confusing witch the space she needed to feel comfortable. On entering the common room, Draco and Hermione lingered by the entrance for a moment as he handed her her bookbag. Gray eyes darted over to the couch-their couch- and he cursed under his breath when he saw a party of Hufflepuffs talking animatedly over a game of wizard's chess. No, this wouldn't work. He had half a mind to tell them to get the fuck out of the common room, but he figured she would not appreciate him being so forward to assume she would want to join him on the couch. Especially after nearly fleeing the library post-kiss minutes earlier.

"Well, thank you for forcing me to accept your chivalry." Hermione took her bag from him, their fingers brushing during the pass off and that small spark ignited at his touch, causing her to take a step back in precaution.

"Not a problem," Draco replied. "Before you go hide in your dorm...I was wondering if you would like to study tomorrow? We have a free period before dinner."

"Study?" Hermione questioned, her skepticism not hidden well in her voice. They were supposed to have been studying earlier in the library and look where that got her! Needing a new pair of knickers and a cold shower to make it through the night.

Draco nodded. "Yes, study. You know…with books."

"Uh… sure. I suppose that would be okay." Hermione shrugged, glancing over to the Hufflepuffs who had begun loudly giggling over something before turning back to Draco, torn between wanting to run in her room to hide or figuring out what motive he had for wanting to 'study' with her.

"Alright good," Draco nodded, beginning to step backwards from her towards the staircase to the boys' dormitory. "I mean, we really ought to get a head start on our project if we are going to get good marks."

"I'm sorry, come again?" Hermione wrinkled her nose. No, she must have misheard him. She wasn't aware of any projects they had been assigned together. "Did you say project?"

"Yes. Our Arithmancy project." Draco knew by the sudden flash of her chocolate brown eyes that she had been completely oblivious to Theo's meddling until that very moment. Unable to help himself, a small smile began to tug on the corners of his mouth.

"B-But I am supposed to be partnered with Theodore."

"Originally yes. But Theo had to switch. Something about Macdougal not being able to work with me...which means we're partners, and to be honest Hermione, we are going to need to spend a lot of time together if we want to make sure we get a good grade. I can't have low marks in Arithmancy going into working at the Ministry, especially not since I plan on working as a solicitor."

Hermione felt her knees weaken at his words. Theo...switched. That little fink! Of course he did. Cursing under her breath, she bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from stringing some of her more colorful language together. Spending any more time with Malfoy the necessary was already proving to be bad for her health because he managed to make all the blood rush from her head and make her lose any rational thought in her brain. No, this was not going to go well at all. "Great… I can't wait," she forced out.

"So, tomorrow then? After Potions?" the blonde wizard confirmed, his head cocking to the side as he watched the little gears within her mind spin to life.

"After Potions," Hermione confirmed.

"Perfect. I know just the spot. Somewhere more…private so we won't get interrupted…" His words lingered in the air, obviously implying their two poorly timed kisses. Steely gray eyes flicked across her face, watching as the soft blossom of a blush began to creep on her cheek as she averted her gaze from his as she turned to begin to make her way toward the staircase that ascended to the girls' dormitory. "Oh, before I forget I've got one more thing, Granger," Draco called out, sliding his book bag from his shoulder as he moved toward to her.

"Yes?" she questioned, turning around to face him as he approached. Brown eyes flickered between him and the Hufflepuffs who seemed to be ignoring their conversation in favor of their game.

"I've been thinking...since we're friends now. It only seems fitting that we call each other by our first names, don't you think?" he questioned as he approached, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his trousers.

First name basis with...Malfoy-no, Draco...This was almost too much to process in one night. Reaching up, her fingers pushed her curls behind her ear nervously. "Sure. That would be okay… I mean it does make sense...if we're supposed to work on a project together." Logically, it did make sense. I mean, if they were expecting to spend several hours outside of the classroom together, she probably ought to get used to using his given name, right?

"My thoughts exactly," Draco agreed. Glancing over his shoulder to sweep his eyes across the room to make sure no one was paying attention, he leaned down quickly, his lips pressing against her cheek next to her ear as his hand moved to her waist, guiding her body closer until their hips touched one another, the evidence of his desire pressing gently against her lower abdomen as he pulled her impossibly close. "Goodnight, Hermione."

As his hot breath washed over the sensitive skin of her ear and neck, she shivered. Her hands went up instinctually to rest against his biceps, feeling the lean muscles flex underneath her grip when his lips were brushed across her cheek until they smoothed over her mouth in what she was certain was a promise of what tomorrow's study session held for her.

Before she could react, Draco stepped away from her, leaving her feeling suddenly very empty and confused as he made his hasty retreat, only sneaking a small glance back to her to smile when she managed to return, "Goodnight, Draco," before he descended the staircase to his dorm room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thank you's to Disenchantedglow, she encourages me to keep at this story and helps me more than anyone could realize. So much love for my Beta, Islandgurl777, without her you would see all of my typo's! I love every single on of your reviews. see you again in two weeks. :)


	6. Infraction

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_Infraction_

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Hermione clutched an off-white mug between her hands, brown eyes watching the caramel colored liquid of her tea swirl as she used a bit of wandless magic to move a small teaspoon around the cup to incorporate the milk and sugar she had added earlier. The burning sting of too hot liquid had long since subsided, and she knew it was the right temperature to drink, but she dared not lift the mug to her lips, not yet at least. Her tongue darted out, running across her bottom lip, and the memories of the night before, when Draco pulled her body against his and pressed his mouth to hers, replayed in her mind, and she could have sworn in that moment she could still taste his kiss.

She knew she should not want whatever was brewing between her and Draco, but part of her was dying to throw caution to the wind and allow whatever happened to occur. It was not like what she was doing… or rather thinking about doing with Malfoy was so horrible anyways, right? She was a grown witch, and he a wizard. She was allowed to have these sorts of feelings, and explore her desires. Her mother had always spoken about making sure Hermione spent her twenties living life and making sure she held no regrets once she finally did settle down. What better way to honor her memory than start right now? Besides, it was not like she was in a relationship anymore...right?

"I haven't seen you look in a teacup with that much enthusiasm since the year you took Divination," came a familiar girlish drawl from her left. Ginny flashed Hermione a smile when she literally jumped out of her thought, the sudden intrusion breaking whatever concentration the witch had on stirring the cup and causing the spoon to violently leave the mug and splash milky tea down the front of Hermione's blouse. "Merlin, you alright?" Grabbing a cloth napkin from the tray in the center of the table, she handed one over before dropping her bookbag on the ground and sliding onto the bench beside her old friend.

Hermione blushed, thanking the red head as she took the napkin and began to blot at her shirt. "Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about-" How fucking amazing Malfoy is at snogging. How I want his hands to touch me underneath my clothing. How fucking delicious he smells. "-Professor Vector's assignment."

"Can't say I blame you. Heard you got stuck with Malfoy." Ginny spooned a small portion of potatoes onto her plate before adding some eggs and sausage. "Want me to go to Vector with you? Maybe we convince her to pair us."

"No!" Hermione replied hastily, looking up to the witch quickly. She internally scolded herself for her too quick reply, and judging by the skeptical look Ginny was giving her now, she could sense the redhead found it odd as well. "It's okay… Malfoy's pretty good in Anthrimancy, might even be better than me." Liar. "It will be nice knowing I don't have to pull the weight of the whole assignment myself, no offense." Liar. Liar! "Besides, he really isn't so bad this year…He even apologized to me… for well...everything."

While the last part was less of a lie than the first, Ginny could still sense something hidden beneath Hermione's reasoning. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly on Hermione's face, trying to see past the surface as if she was trying to determine what was going on. "...so you want to be partnered with him?"

Hermione scoffed, her right hand lifting to wave off the notion like a gnat. "Want to? Don't be daft, Gin'. Of course not, but I am not going to waste any sort of privilege I might have to avoid this one tiny little project," she explained, balling up the cloth napkin, and she set it next to her plate of cold toast that she had been neglecting since she prepared it earlier. "Besides, from what Harry told me, I am going to need to save up any favors I might have from the professors seeing as you're going to be leaving here before graduation."

Ginny's expression quickly changed, splitting into a huge grin. "I don't know what he had been telling you. I still need to try out." She tried to act coy, dropping her eyes to her plate so she could stab some of the eggs with her fork before she looked back over to Hermione, smirking.

"We all know it's a formality at this point." Hermione lifted up her lukewarm tea, finally allowing herself to take the smallest of sips. "This is really great news though, Gin'. You should have come told me yourself… not that I mind hearing from Harry, but it would have been great to hear it from you."

"Well I would have, if I could ever find you!" Ginny replied exasperatedly, glancing around the table to see if anyone was paying attention before she looked back to the curly haired witch. "I tried using the DA Galleons but you never responded. I even asked Harry for that map because I was starting to worry."

"Oh… shoot. I'm sorry." Of course Ginny looked for her. She had been so consumed with whatever was happening between her and Malfoy that she had forgotten about her friendships still inside these castle walls. "I've been in my dormitory. I can give you the password if you'd like to come visit."

"And be around that pack of Snakes you share it with? Thanks anyways. You should just come back to the Gryffindor common room."

Hermione smirked into her mug, using it to hide the growing amusement. She didn't blame Ginny, truly. She had held the same preconceived notions about Malfoy and company at the beginning of term, but the past several weeks had changed that. Even if she had not snogged Draco, she might have begun to consider them more friends than enemies at this point. "Every time I walk in there, the lower classmen stare at me like I'm some sort of celebrity and whisper. One of them even asked me for an autograph after Magical Creatures one day."

"Well, you kind of are…you do know that right?" Ginny pressed, her tone dripping with obviousness as she lifted a thin red brow at her friend. "Your face was all over the papers for months. From what Mum said, there is still a write-up at least once a week about the three of you."

Hermione shook her head, pursing her lips together. "I am most certainly not. I did nothing special, what anyone else would have done in my situation."

"You can't possibly believe that… Hermione, you guys did something most adults wouldn't have even done. Look. I get it, you and Harry don't enjoy the fame the same way that Ron does, but you must know what sort of impact you all made."

An impact? Merlin, what a way to word that. Hermione had struggled with that very fact since the war ended. She felt no different than before. She was still the same girl who enjoyed books, a strong cup of tea and the company of her friends. It was the rest of the world who seemed to be under the impression she was more than that now. "I can concede to knowing that people _think_ I've made an impact. I will not get into how utterly false their logic is, though…" Hermione let her voice trail off as her eyes rolled and just when Ginny was about to counter with some ridiculous point about Harry, Ron and her 'being more than just normal teenagers' she lifted a hand to silence her quickly. "But speaking of your brother, have you spoken to him lately?"

Ginny's lips thinned into an amused smirk, her forehead wrinkling when her brows lifted but with the quick change of subject, it was more than obvious Hermione was not going to further humor their last subject. "Not since beginning of term."

Of course not. Hermione had half expected Ron to reach out to Ginny with news of their row and potential break up, but clearly she had given him too much credit (yet again). "Oh…" Her eyes dropped to look at the plate in front of her and she lifted a hand from her lap to pick at the crumbling crust at the edge of her bread before she lifted it to take a small bite.

"Why?" Ginny questioned cautiously, watching Hermione carefully avoid her gaze, and she set her fork down with a small clatter against the porcelain plate before reaching out to touch her friend's wrist. "What did he do this time?"

The irony was not lost on Hermione. Of course Ginny's first instinct was to question just how Ron had managed to muck up something between them. Setting her toast down, she pulled back from the touch on her wrist so she could fold her hands in her lap underneath the table, hiding her nervousness from Ginny as she began to pick at her thumbnail. "Well… I mean it was no big deal…" she began and then paused with a heavy breath filling her lungs. No, this was not right. She had always made excuses for Ron's shortcomings. She shouldered blame in their confusing relationship, but not this time. Not any more. "Actually… no. It was. Did you know he was a part of some Quidditch League?"

Ginny nodded, slowly lifting a bite of potato to her lips.

"Did you know he was not coming for visits because of said Quidditch League?" she pressed, her cheeks beginning to flush crimson. She could not be certain if it was embarrassment or anger, perhaps it was both, but either way she was not going to dwell on those details.

Ginny winced, her eyes squeezing shut, and her free hand lifted until her palm hit the dead center of her forehead in a silent incredulous disbelief at her brother's obvious stupidity. Swallowing down the mouthful of potato, she grabbed her cup of pumpkin juice before she turned to face Hermione, blue eyes empathetic. "Shit, Hermione…I'm...sorry?"

Hermione lifted her hand, waving off the unneeded apology as if the fact did not bother her. Although the truth was, even now, weeks later and with the… weird unknown of what Malfoy was to her-or rather doing with her, it still hurt. "He's an idiot."

"He's most certainly not the most intelligent Weasley boy," Ginny tried to joke. "So I guess your last dinner date did not end on a positive note?"

"Well considering Harry was in attendance, it was not a date." Hermione watched as Ginny visibly rolled her eyes, the witch's hand lifting to rub against her brow at her boyfriend's faux pas. "But no…I might have, uh…I might have ended things."

"Whoa, wait...You broke up?" Ginny blinked at Hermione, eyes wide with surprise.

"I think so? I've not had much experience with ending relationships, but I left, not on good terms and…well, he has not contacted me since that night."

"Merlin. Wow. That's going to make the Yule Holiday a bit sour. Mum's going to be furious." Her eyes dropped away from her friend, taking a far away look for a moment.

Hermione knew the reason. This was the first Christmas since the war…Since Fred…Fuck, why had she not thought of that! "Gin'...I'm so sorry. I'll write your Mum-"

Ginny snapped from her introspection and looked up to her friend once more. Reaching out she rested a hand on Hermione's shoulder as she shook her head. "No. Hermione this is not your fault…Ron's had his head with the pegasi for a while now. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty!" Ginny gushed quickly. "I don't blame you…I don't think anyone will once the news gets around."

Hermione nodded, pearly white teeth biting the corner of her bottom lip. Just when she was starting to come to terms with her sudden change in relationship status, she was not questioning her decision. A deep breath filled her lungs, inflating them to the point of almost painful and just as she exhaled the sound of the clock tower bell filled the great hall.

Around the room, students began to gather their things, some snatching a piece of toast, bacon or sausage off the table to nibble on their way to their first class of the day. Hermione had never felt more grateful for that dreaded bell than in this moment. It was not that she did not want to see Ginny, nor appreciate her friendship with the witch. It was just that discussing her break up with her ex-boyfriend's younger sister was not ideal, despite Ginny's and her friendship.

"I uh…I should go…Herbology," Hermione said quickly as she reached under the table, her fingers curling around the thick canvas strap of her messenger bag, and as she stood from the table, she hoisted the heavy bag onto her shoulder. "We'll catch up soon…okay? I want to hear about your tryout."

Ginny hesitated, looking like she was on the verge of saying something more, but just as quickly as the urge flickered in her eyes, it disappeared and was replaced by a grin that did not quite reach her eyes. "Yeah... Soon," she agreed.

Hermione nodded, lifting her hand to give a small awkward wave before she turned from her friend and merged herself into the sea of underclassmen working their way out of the hall toward the first classes of the day.

The morning had flown by, much to Hermione's surprise. She had never been a huge fan of working in the soil, so to speak, but she found herself enjoying Herbology this time around. The class size was smaller, more intimate, and she got to spend time working beside Neville. They never spoke of the war, or the choice to return to Hogwarts. They had an almost unspoken agreement to not dwell on the past, but instead embrace their future. They would discuss their plans for work post-graduation, news from the Daily or their run-ins with former classmates. It was simpler, a chance for Hermione to not think too much about darker times and pretend that life was normal, or perhaps as normal as it could ever be.

When the lunch bell rang, she had opted to grab a sack lunch from the kitchens and head to Ancient Runes early instead of joining the rest of the castle for lunch. She used the pretense of wanting to look over her homework, when in truth she was hoping to finish the last bit of the latest novel Andromeda had sent her. Since the war's end, Hermione had found herself thrust into an unusual friendship with the Black sister. One that she was not expecting, but was nonetheless grateful for. It seemed Harry had let it slip during one of their first visits to his Godson that Hermione was…well, somewhat orphaned like Teddy. Obviously the circumstances were different, and Hermione was already technically an adult, but regardless, the witch felt the need to take her under her wing.

It had slowly blossomed, with Andromeda handling her as cautiously as one would an injured bird, but by now the two kept up regular correspondence under the pretense of a book club.

At the beginning of each month, Andromeda would send a small care package, nothing extravagant (per Hermione's insistence): a small bit of chocolates, the occasional new quill or journal, but Hermione's favorite part was each month the witch selected a new book for them to read together. She looked forward to the parcel, waiting with bated breath to see what sort of world she would be whisked away to next. And although it should have been no surprise, when she opened up the package this month, she found a worn copy of an American Muggle author waiting for her. Little Women. Hermione had, of course, read it before. Her mother, a bibliophile just as she was, had encouraged Hermione to read it the summer before she started at Hogwarts. At the time, she thought it dry and rather silly, but now she was enjoying the sisters' stories, marveling at how Andromeda had managed to select a work that felt so eerily similar to where Hermione felt her status was in her own life. Stuck on the cusp of adolescence and adulthood. Especially with her return to school, she felt like in the moment she was trying to savor the last droplets of her childhood, specifically those last remaining impulsive choices that could be made with little consequence-like snogging your childhood nemesis.

Choosing her favored desk to the left of the black door, Hermione settled into the hardwood of the chair before pulling out the second-hand copy of Little Women and she read in silence, only occasionally stopping to eat a bit of the sandwich the house elves had prepared for her. When the bell rang, signally the end of her small slice of quiet, she cleared her desk with the flick of her vinewood and tucked the book back in her messenger bag for safe keeping before pulling out a leather bound notebook, a self-inking quill and this week's assignment.

One by one, a mixture of seventh and eighth year students filtered into the drafty classroom, ruining the quiet that it held only moments ago. She had become accustomed to sharing the desk with a seventh year Hufflepuff, Clara. She was a small wisp of a girl, and kept relatively quiet, which was a decidedly nice change over her deskmates from years prior. Laying out her things, Hermione set a pheasant feather quill at the top of her desk, her homework to the left hand side ready for collection and a thick dragon leather notebook in the center. She cracked the spine, carefully opening the notebook to a fresh page, and as she smoothed the rough parchment flat, the edge of her notebook crossed over the faded line that indicated the divided workspace.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched a dark figure claim the seat next to her and begin to unpack their bag onto the desktop. Hermione turned to give the quiet Hufflepuff a friendly greeting, her hands falling to her lap to tug down the length of her skin over her thighs, and just as her mouth opened, instead of a golden blonde Hufflepuff she was greeted with the sight of the boy-no, man who had consumed her thoughts over the last several weeks.

Her mouth hung open, brown eyes widening infinitesimally as her mind halted all thought for a moment, watching in disbelief as he set out his items across the tabletop. He… he wasn't supposed to be there! He sat two rows back to the left. He sat far enough away from her to make it seem like he wasn't watching, but she knew he was. She could feel his eyes on her skin in every single shared class. Someone had to be in his seat, that was it. Right? Clearly some displaced student simply forgot their spot in the room and took his. Her head whipped behind her to see who she would be sending invisible daggers to in the hallways, but found that, not only was Draco's usual seat vacant, but there were several other seating options open for him to take. Even some without a single person in the desk at all, which meant he could spread this things out if needed.

"You do know that these are double occupancy desks, Hermione?" Draco questioned, his hand gesturing to where her notebook crossed over the invisible border that divided their tabletop into two equal halves.

This was a joke, right? It had to be a joke. Sure, they had snogged…a couple times now, but sitting next to her in class?! And calling her by her first name…in a room full of other people! Merlin, this wizard was going to be the death of her, she knew it. Death by shock…or confusion. Regardless it would be death by Draco-Fucking-Malfoy. "Oh… sorry," was all she could muster as a reply before reaching out to curl her fingers around the edge for her notebook to pull it back over to her side.

Draco moved quickly, leaning closer to her, the crisp wool of his trousers brushing against the bare skin of her thigh as he assisted her efforts. He reached out confidently, his nimble fingers curled around hers, the touch causing an almost audible pop of magical energy between them, but this time he did not pull away as he might have a couple of days ago. Instead he lingered for a moment, well past the point of it being polite assistance before he pulled away, letting his fingertips brush across her wrist. He did not hide his smirk as he watched color rise in her cheeks, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he fought back the urge to rub the back of his knuckles across her cheek to test the heat of the flame.

Hermione's eyes danced across his face, watching as his smirk grew, and the silver in his eyes turned almost molten with a sort of mischief she had never seen before. Just as she opened her mouth to question what the hell he thought he was playing at by sitting next to her, the penetrating sound of Professor Babbling clearing her throat to gain the class's attention cut off that plan of action.

Instead, Hermione straightened her spine as she folded her hands in her lap and faced forward, determined to make the best of this situation and not allow him to get under her skin. She had a hard enough time concentrating around him when they were outside of class; she would not allow herself to be some sort of foolish girl and let him pull her from her education.

Of course, this plan would have worked, if Draco had been on the same page. Throughout the beginning of the lecture, she could feel his arm touch hers as they took notes in silence, smearing her inked words in the notebook, or his legs press against hers as he widened his stance as he shifted elbows. The small touches and the occasional glance could be excused away, but when he charmed his quill to take notes for him, the black feather swishing in the air, and leaned back to drape his arm over the back of their bench seat, Hermione's hackles instantly raised.

It did not take long before the accidental touch turned into his fingers toying with the ends of her curls that hung over the back of the bench. Draco would twist a single ringlet around his index finger, testing the elasticity of the curl by tugging it out before letting it pop back into place. He kept his eyes on the front of the classroom, but made sure he could watch her from the corner of his eye, growing more and more impatient with his forwardness.

"Malfoy, stop it!" Hermione hissed as she dropped her quill against her notebook, causing ink droplets to splatter across her notes.

"Draco…"

She set her jaw, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly as a heavy breath was taken before she chanced a glance over at him and away from their professor. "Draco… please stop. I-I cannot pay attention."

"I'm not really sure why this is my issue, Hermione," Draco began, leaning forward to rest his chin in his palm as his elbow hit the desk, his other hand still swirling her curls around his index finger. "I'm finding today's lesson rathering riveting. I, for one, was not aware that the ancient Mesopotamians anointed their soldiers with golden paint runes prior to battles."

"B-because!" Her voice clipped up an octave and she felt several sets of eyes turn in her direction. Fuck, too loud. She needed to remain calm. There was no need to let emotions get into the mix of this. This was simple. They were in class… they should be focusing. "Because you're playing with my hair… and touching me… it's incredibly distracting."

Draco bit back his victorious smirk, knowing it would only enrage the little bookworm further. "Oh… am I?" He questioned in mock surprise. "I apologize Hermione, I must have been so focused on the lecture I did not notice." Carefully, he pulled his fingers from the bottom of her curls. Resisting the urge to give them a playful tug, Draco allowed the fingers of his fingers to run across the space between her shoulder blades before dropping his hand against the soft wooden tabletop.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as an involuntary shiver ran down her spine, causing the small curls on the back of her neck and the fine hair on her arms to stand on end. That… bastard. Didn't notice? Everything about what he had done since the beginning of class had been carefully calculated. His seat selection, his fleeting glances, and touches. "That's not funny, Draco," she warned, her voice quavering ever so slightly despite her attempt to be stern.

"I made no attempts to be," he returned.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," The Professor's crisp address pulled their attention to the front of the room quickly. "You both seem to be under the impression you are able to have a private conversation during my lecture."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione apologized instantly, shifting her body away from Draco's to provide a barrier so their legs did not touch.

"I was just helping Miss Granger with a bit of work….Won't happen again," Draco supplied, the amused expression he wore instantly vanishing for a more cool appearance, one that everyone else in the room was far more familiar with.

"No, it most certainly will not," Professor Babbling said, violet eyes casting a haughty gaze to them over the edge of her thick glasses. "Mr. Malfoy, you may gather your belongings and leave. Your presence in my classroom is no longer needed for today."

"W-What? Professor I-" Hermione began, eyes widening in shock.

"Professor. I-" Draco said at the same time, his brow furrowing.

"Mr. Malfoy. As one of you are one of the mandatory returning students," her tone silenced them both instantly, a deep frown stretching over her features as she cut her eyes to Draco. "You knew the expectations of acceptance back at Hogwarts. Your disruption of my classroom today is in clear violation of several of those terms. With that said, I will not allow your being here to bother the other students who have chosen to return to school."

Draco could feel the first layer of enamel grind off his molars as he clenched his jaw at her words. The conditions of him being here were far from a secret, but having them thrown in his face like this was worse than dealing with the press during the trial. At least when that was occurring people had the decency to whisper behind his back.

"Professor! Draco did nothing to bother me," Hermione sat up a bit straighter, her fingers curling around the edge of the table as she used it for leverage. "Furthermore, you are being unnecessarily harsh considering there were other conversations happening around the classroom. You are being very critical of him, and I suspect, biased in your punishment."

"That is very presumptuous of you, Miss Granger." The Professor bristled, looking almost taken aback by her star student's comments.

"Hermione," Draco hissed, silver eyes shooting daggers at her. "Stop it. It's fine. I'm leaving."

"No. No! This is NOT okay." Hermione reached out, grabbing Draco's wrist to pause him from collecting his things before turning to look up at the Professor again. She could feel the eyes of all their classmates on her, and she could already hear the hurried whispers between them. The Golden Girl befriending the Malfoy Martyr. How utterly fucking cliche. "This is far from presumptuous! You literally stood there and discussed the means of his return to this school in front of everyone. Something that, as faculty, you should have the wherewithal to keep confidential-"

"Hermione, stop!" Draco begged, yanking his hand from her wrist.

"-By allowing yourself to hold bias in your position you are not only a bad educator, but furthermore-"

"MISS GRANGER!" Professor Babbling's face was a deep shade of purple by now, as it seemed Hermione's inability to keep her mouth shut in the face of injustice did not pay her any favors this time. "You would do well to remember your status."

"As would you!" Hermione shot back.

"Out. BOTH of you OUT NOW," the Professor shouted, her thin cypress wand slicing through the air, and the door at the back of the classroom burst open with a resounding bang. The noise caused all of the students watching the row unfold to jump. "Neither of you shall return to this class until I have five feet on why your disruption today was out of order."

Hermione sat shell-shocked for a moment, watching as Draco quickly shoved the last of his belongings into his bag. This was…This was not fucking fair! Hermione stood, the bench scratching against the stone floor, and she grabbed her messenger bag to shove her items inside it roughly. "With all due respect, you will be waiting quite some time for that assignment, Professor," she snapped, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder as she shot a hot look across the classroom at the professor. Two years ago, Hermione would not have dreamed of speaking this way to any authority figure in her life, but she had been through too much. She had watched too many people die by staying silent. She would never allow herself to not speak up anymore.

Draco, like the other Slytherin students, was here not because it was a choice. They were here as a punishment, returning to a school that did not want them any more than they wanted it. They had to be, for lack of a better term, on their very best behavior at all times. No fighting, no snide comments, no house pride even. They had to simply exist behind these stone walls for months until graduation, and then they would likely face similar hatred in the 'real world'. The biggest difference was that outside of these walls they could defend themselves.

Befriending Draco, if that's what one would call snogging, would now open herself up to the possibility of getting caught up in whatever prejudice he faced on a daily basis. The irony was not lost on her, but it still stung. No one deserved to be treated that way. She had been on the receiving end of such thoughts for many years, and felt powerless to fix it. This was part of what they had fought against, yet here it was… as plain as day.

Setting her jaw, Hermione turned away from the Professor, her hand clutching the strap of the messenger bag in the middle of her chest as she moved toward the door to the classroom which was swinging closed behind Draco's retreating form.

She moved quickly, and the sensible pair of loafers she had chosen for today beat against the stone floor as she hurried to catch up to him. "Malfoy…Draco, wait!" she called once in the hallway, the heavy classroom door swinging closed behind her as she looked down the hallway in either direction in search of the wizard, but found either direction empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know.... I know... It's been a month since I last updated this. Don't hate me. I will try to be a little more consistent going forward. I am not done with this story, in fact I have a solid plan for how this tale will go. Hopefully all you lovely readers will forgive me. Drop me a line and let me know what you think.


	7. New Plan

 

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_New Plan_

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Draco could feel his blood pressure rise with each step he took further away from the classroom. How could she fucking do that?! Who the hell did she think she was? Arguing with Professor Babbling like she was championing for him. Fucking Gryffindors and their hero complexes. He knew for a fact Hermione was self-inflicted with that disgustingly tragic personality trait but it was still shocking to see her so blatantly stand up for him. The conversation rang in his ears still: Hermione's disparaging tone, the Professor's shrill edict. And he silent as the graveyard watching it unfold despite the urge to tell them both to shut the fuck up. Of course, he couldn't do that could he? He couldn't do a damn thing about what anyone said behind his back or to his face. He had to remain calm. He had to not give in and become what they all thought of him. What he already knew he was. A fucking monster. What the bloody fuck was Hermione playing at anyways? Defending him like he was her next fucking charity case. First the House Elves, next pureblood boys raised by arrogant fathers that never told them 'I love you'.

His loafers snapped against the hewn tile as he made it to the staircase at the end of the hall, ignoring the witch calling his name from the opposite end. Fuck her. He didn't need her in his mind right now; he needed to get far away from her before he did something truly stupid. It was bad enough she took up permanent residence in the part of his brain that held all of his depravity, but now she was beginning to try and break the barrier to become all he was able to focus on. He was supposed to be in control of this, but the flimsy thread that was left, the single thing he thought he could still manage to manipulate as he wished in his life, was beginning to slip between his fingers no matter how hard he tried.

Moving into the second floor corridor, Draco's long stride brought him halfway down the hall in the blink of an eye, his messenger bag slapping so fiercely against his side it began to sting. Instead of continuing towards the end of the hallway that contained the next staircase, he made an abrupt turn into an empty classroom. It had been the very same one Professor Snape had used during fourth year to discuss the expectations of the Yule Ball. Draco knew that it was sparsely decorated, which was exactly what he needed at the moment. If he thought he could make it, he would have tried to make the climb to the seventh floor and used the Come and Go Room, but he did not trust himself to hex a statue or two on the way and he knew that would only result in more problems than he already had.

Pointing the tip of his Hawthorn wand at the brass handle, he did not even need to verbalize the spell before the lock popped. His magic was almost corporeal, fighting to the surface with the humiliation and anger that swirled inside him like a tempest-tossed storm.

He shouldered it open quickly before roughly slamming it shut, the noise echoing around the unused classroom as he pulled his messenger bag from around his body, and he threw it against the floor with a snarl, causing several quills and ink pots to spill from inside and roll across the dusty floor. His free hand rose and the black silk tie around his neck was yanked free from the Windsor knot, and he let the fabric fall from his fingertips to the floor as his eyes shut. He begged himself to calm down, to resist the urge to slice his wand through the air and bring destruction to the classroom around him. It felt justified, seeing as how much of his own life was in fucking shambles. His father dead, his mother playing Ministry-lapdog just so she didn't end up with the same fate as her husband, and he here, back at a fucking school that did not want him just as much as he did not want to be here.

His fingers twitched around the thin Hawthorne wand. He could hear his magic spark around him, willing itself into the air despite the consequences. "Fuck!" Steely gray eyes snapped open and he turned, throwing his wand across the classroom where it hit the stone wall and clattered to the floor. This was her fault. He had a plan on how to fucking make it through this year without problem. Get in, get out, and move onto the Ministry for the next ten fucking years where he would play good-boy-Malfoy. He had a fucking plan, but she had to show up and ruin everything. She had to wear those damn skirts and prance around here like nothing had happened. Pretend like he could be forgiven. She should have never fucking testified. She should have let him figure this shit out on his own!

Draco moved across the room, his hands ruffling his carefully styled hair as he began to pace, his mind racing. Fueled by thoughts of Hermione. Her in the classroom, tapping her quill against the side of the desk in thought, her swinging her legs like a schoolgirl in the library, her body pressed against his, and her lips. A soft as roses are red. Gods how he had thought of those lips since their first kiss. He was supposed to be in control. She wasn't supposed to have the upper hand. He was a Malfoy for fuck's sake! He certainly wasn't supposed to be so fucking distraught over anyone, let alone a Muggleborn!

Without further thought, Draco launched his anger at the closest object to him, an unassuming wooden chair. It had seen better days, judging by the carvings in the arm and the obvious wobble it held due to its uneven legs. But nonetheless it was catching the brunt of his anger. His foot lifted from the tiled floor and connected with the back of it, sending the furniture across the room and slamming against a small stack of desks, causing them to tumble off of one another and onto the floor in a loud crash which helped muffle his scream in frustration.

Six months?! He had six more fucking months of this. Of being trapped here...and with her. How the fuck was he supposed to survive when all he had to do was wake up in the morning to be filled with thoughts of her!?

It was then, just as he was able to let loose another growl of anger, he heard the door open behind him and even without looking he knew exactly who it was. His eyes closed and his hands rose to press the base of his palms against his eyes until white stars burst behind them. "What. do. you. want?"

Hermione's hand fidgeted with the doorknob, causing the soft tinkle of metal to fill the growing silence between them as she watched him. His shoulders rising and falling with rapid breath, she didn't have to see his hands to know they were clenched into fists as he held them to his face in a weak attempt to temper his anger. "I...I wanted to check on you…"

Draco could do little to contain the harsh laugh before it spilled from his mouth as he dropped his hands to his sides loosely. She wanted to check on him… she likely just received a month's worth of detention for standing up for him, and SHE wanted to check on HIM. Fuck… this was worse than he assumed. She… she had feelings for him. Well, of course she did. He highly doubted she was the type to snog and run, but this was more than that. This magnetism. This pull of indescribable energy was not one-sided.

Hermione looked behind her as if to check if the coast was clear before she slipped inside the classroom and carefully pulled her bookbag from her shoulder and set it on the floor beside the now closed door. "Mal-erm… Draco. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" What a loaded question. Didn't she have any idea how not okay he was? Turning to face her, he forced his face blank. Apathy, a character trait he held in spades. Carefully crafted over years of abuse and neglect. "My father's dead, my mother might as well be, I am forced to return to this pathetic excuse for a school to complete a year of education no one wants to provide me, and you want to ask if I'm okay?"

Hermione winced at his words, eyes dropping to the floor, watching the toes of her shoes as she shifted her weight between her hips. "I...I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean about my life in general? Oh, of course, you must be referring to how you made an utter fucking fool of yourself and me by having a row with Professor Babbling. How silly of me to forget." His words sliced through the air, intent on drawing blood from his spot across the abandoned classroom.

"Draco that's not very kind," Hermione began as a small frown pulled on her lips. Looking up once more she allowed her eyes to find his. "She cannot treat you that way. Not you or any student for that matter. She was being unfair."

"Life's not fair, Hermione! Haven't you fucking figured that out by now?" Draco snapped.

"Well it bloody should be!" Hermione returned quickly, her hands balling into small fists at her sides. "I've been there…I've been the person being spoken down to and no one else would say what was right. I cannot sit by and...and...and let someone talk to you this way!"

"I'm not your fucking charity case, Hermione!'" Draco heard as his voice went rough with anger, a tone that was eerily similar to his father's and made him even more disgusted with himself. It was bad enough to look like Lucius-a fucking murderer- but to embody him? That was a curse he was trying too fucking hard to break but was clearly failing.

"No one said you were!" Hermione defended. Pushing off the door, she took several small steps into the room towards him. "Draco...It's not like that...I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean to upset you, I just- I couldn't let her talk like that and I'm sorry."

Draco's tongue darted out, moistening his lips as he let out a heavy series of breaths through his nose as he watched her approach him with the same kind of tentativeness one would give to a wounded animal. Her eyes wide, watching him like he could do no wrong. She wasn't judging him. She hadn't since that day in the Wizengamot. Hell, if he really thought back she didn't even back when she was trapped in his house. She managed to see right through his hardened exterior and see how fucking broken he was. It was almost as if all she wanted was to swallow up his pain and anger and make the word right once more. And the thing that scared him more than someone actually feeling that way about him was the fact that he wanted to let her.

Draco moved toward her quickly, meeting her halfway across the room. His right hand went to her cheek, cupping her face as he pulled her close to him with a guiding hand on her waist, and his mouth found hers. And in that moment, it was almost as if he could forget. That's what this was supposed to be, right? A means to forget. Get it out of his system and move on. She was a phase. Just a fucking phase.

Hermione's eyes widened at first, unsure of how normal this type of behavior was. Her experience with relationships was very limited, at best, but she was almost certain arguments did not prelude kissing. But then again, she was snogging Draco Malfoy: the same boy-no, man- that a group of curious fourth years had so charmingly nicknamed Captain Broody. Her hands rose to his shoulders as her eyes closed, giving into the bruising kiss as she pushed thoughts of what the hell this meant from her mind. Perhaps this was a good sign? Maybe this him saying he forgave her. Whatever the case may be, she was not going to concern herself with the details when his mouth parted her lips and his tongue brushed against hers, causing all coherent thought to slip away.

Draco took slow steps, guiding Hermione until her back was pressed against a cold stone wall. With the resistance behind her forcing her still, Draco was able to press his body against hers once more, silently relishing in the way it felt to have her against him. She was soft, supple even. So unlike the other women he had been with before. They had been all elbows and kneecaps, while Hermione's body seemed to curve like a winding river. His hand on her jaw slowly ran the column of her neck, his fingers brushing across her pulse point and down the opening of her blouse and over the tops of her breasts before they hit the resistance of where her shirt buttoned.

Hermione gasped into his lips, her back arching off the stone as she felt his fingertips fiddle with the straining button on her blouse, but when he made no move to unbutton it, but rather slowly follow the trail of buttons across her chest and down her abdomen, a small whimper in frustration was given. Kissing with Ron had never been like this. It had been… well, awkward. Far too much tongue and on occasion their teeth would clink. This was the type of snogging that she had read about in those novels her mum hid on the top shelf behind the cookbooks. The kind that seemed to steal all the air from her lungs and make the most sensitive parts of her body arch with fierce desire.

She felt his fingers drop below her belly button, fiddling against the button on her blouse just at her waistline before they slipped down and began to run across the band of her skirt, causing her to break the kiss just so she could take the shuddering breath that lingered in her lungs. His name was whimpered as she pressed her head against the tile, her hair clinging to the rough stone as her hips pressed into his hand involuntarily as if to encourage him.

Draco pulled back just enough to look at her flushed face, steely eyes scanning across her kiss-swollen lips, and red cheeks before dropping down to look at her bust. Watching the buttons of her oxford strain with each breath that filled her lungs. Those blasted uniforms. They were going to be the death of him. As tempted as he was to give in to her silent request and slide his hand beneath her skirt to find out just exactly what kind of panties she wore (this exact idea had plagued his fantasies for several weeks now), he refrained. Instead his hand came to rest on her hip, fingers pressing lightly against the soft skin on her back as he tugged her closer to him until their hips met. A soft groan was breathed as he pressed his hardened length against her, letting her feel for the first time just how much she affected him.

Her mind was slowed in the lust-filled haze that filled the room, but clearly there was some sort of primal knowledge that overrode her senses, because as soon as she felt him press his cock against her, she seemed to know exactly what to do. Brown eyes snapped open, her pupils blown wide, as a soft gasp was given before she testingly rolled her hips against his.

Draco's lips parted as another unintentional groan was given; feeling her body rock into his was more than he was capable of comprehending in this moment. It felt divine, and yet at the same like, left him craving more of her. As his mouth found the soft skin of her neck, his hand dropped to her thigh and he slowly tugged up the hemline of her skirt until his palm could run across the soft skin of her thigh, internally cursing her for having what he assumed was the softest skin in the world, for this simple touch made him more determined than ever to see if the rest of the skin hidden beneath that awful fucking uniform felt the same.

Hermione would not consider herself a weak person, but for the first time in her life it felt so fucking good not to be in control. To not have her next move predetermined, her body poised and ready for some future assault or daring adventure. For the first time since she was eleven she was allowing herself to simply live in the moment, and for whatever reason it meant she wound up in the arms of a man she should never find solace in.

His hand left a trail of fire against her skin that seemed to run straight to her core, causing a pooling heat that she had felt seldomly before. When his palm began to move down, instead of up, a whimper in soft protest was given. Didn't he realise his goal was the opposite direction!? She highly doubted he was sexually misinformed, based on the way he had snogged her moments ago like she was the last drop of water and he a thirsty man in the desert. Leaving no stone unturned in search of more. She had to resist the urge to reach down and correct his hand's direction and simply follow his lead when he hooked his fingers under the back of her knee to tug it up until her knee was pressed against his hip as he seated himself further against her body. A breathless moan of his name was whispered in encouragement against the shell of his ear when she felt the hard length of his cock brush against her core. She had never felt something so erotic before. Everything about him seemed to ooze sex appeal. Each drag of his hands against her skin was purposeful, leaving her panting for more.

Her head tipped back against the rough stones as her body hummed in approval to the slow grinding rhythm they fell into. Like a tango, her hips rolled against his, seeking to bring forth more of the delicious little husky breaths and groans he made as well as bring some pleasure to herself in the process. With a swirl of his hips, his manhood seemed to brush against the apex of her mound, causing a fire inside her to ignite into a roaring inferno. The combination of his hand on her thigh, the pressure of his hips on hers and his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on her neck was beginning to cloud all of her judgement. She needed more. She needed him to take her against the cold wall of this dusty fucking classroom and make her his. Her brain was firing on the most primal of levels. There was no room to think of Ron or Harry or how utterly wrong this should feel, because all that seemed to matter was that right now, it was transcendent.

Draco's teeth nipped against a love bite he left on her collarbone before his tongue lapped against the raised skin. His own mind was lost in a Hermione-induced fog, and it wasn't until he felt her hands smooth across his chest and begin to unbutton the top of his black button down that warning bells began to sound off in his head like a caterwauling charm. This wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to make her beg for him. He was supposed to be more in fucking control of his emotions. He wasn't some fifteen year old boy anymore, and this was not just another random slag he could use and drop. This was Hermione...this was someone who meant so much more. And just like that, he cut through the fog and froze in a momentary panic. His body went rigid. Fuck...FUCK! He...He wanted more than just a one time shag.

His hand holding her knee to his hip let go and he took a large step back. No. He had a plan, a carefully mapped out plan. He was going to seduce her, shag her boneless and leave her begging for more. Of course, he would never allow himself to give her more, because this was supposed to be just a phase. He was supposed to fuck her a couple times and not let something like feelings complicate things. But here he was, pining for her...playing with her god damn hair in class like some first year with a crush. Because that was exactly what was happening. Draco had a crush on her. No, more than a crush. He fancied her.

Hermione's hands scrambled to grab at his shirt as he pulled away, her body radiating a heat she was positive could be felt the next floor up. "W-What?" she stammered out, large doe eyes cracking open as she leaned back against the wall for support, her hands going to rest against the rough stones on either side of her figure.

Draco looked at the floor; he could not trust himself to look at her right then, for he knew exactly what he would see and he needed a moment to compose himself. Shaky hands rose, carefully sliding through his flaxen locks and putting his hair back into place as he took two large, purposeful steps back from the witch that had plaguing his sleeping and now waking thoughts. His body hated him; he could feel it ache with a primitive need to return to her warmth, to slide her skirt up her hips, pull her knickers aside and take her roughly against the hard wall and claim her for his. His hands trembled with a need to explore every inch of her skin, but he couldn't give in. Not now. He had a plan. He needed to get back in control. He needed the upper hand in this situation because this was one of the few things in his life he was supposed to have complete fucking control over.

"Don't speak for me again, Hermione." His voice was rough. Almost foreign to his ears. Clearing his throat after, he took a deep breath and waited until it burned his lungs to release it before lifting his eyes from the dirty gray floor to her. She looked dazed, standing there clutching the wall for support. Her curls wild, the frizz clinging to the small cracks in the stone wall behind her. Her skirt askew, her shirt rumpled and her cheeks bright pink with flush. His heart, already beating like rapid fire beneath his chest, throbbed at the sight.

Hermione gulped. His words were heard but took a moment to register. Don't speak for him? Sure, she would do whatever the bloody fuck he wanted, as long it meant he would cross the growing space between them and press his wicked mouth against hers once more. Hell, she would charm her lips shut if that is what was needed! "O-Okay."

Draco nodded, his eyes running the length of her figure once more. Noting the way her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, the way her shirt strained against her breasts, the way her pleated skirt fell against her thighs that pressed tightly together and her gray knee socks. Those bloody fucking socks. Biting his bottom lip, he turned from her, his hands lifting to rebutton the collar of his black button down as he moved across the room to retrieve his wand from where he had tossed it earlier.

Hermione watched in confusion as he began to collect his things. It was as if her senses were dulled, for she did not react to his attempt at a hasty retreat until his bookbag was slung over his shoulder. "Wait…Wait!" she stammered. Pushing off the wall to stand on her wobbly legs, she took two steps forwards him. "Where are you going?"

Draco glanced over his shoulder to her before turning to face her. His hands were lifting the collar to his shirt before sliding the black tie around his head, trying to return to some sort of semblance of the ever-perfect persona he forced himself to live up to. "I have things… to do…to take care of. I cannot spend all afternoon holed up in some classroom with you."

Hermione's eye widened, her face betraying any sort of mask she might normally wear. Leaving? What the fuck? What had she done wrong? Was she a bad kisser? No. Ron had never complained before, and Viktor, well he certain had more experience that either Ron or Draco combined, and he never once mentioned she was a terrible snogger. Was it the noises she made? Or perhaps it was the unbuttoning of his shirt. "But..."

Draco's eyes dropped to his hands, watching them as he began to move the ends of his tie around in a complex knot with a crafted precision that only years of practice would give. "But what?"

He had to be joking, right? Was Draco a witty wizard? Her history with him left her doubting this very much, but clearly there had to be at least some sort of bone in his body that was fond of humor because this could be the only possible explanation. "But I-we were just…I mean...you know?" she managed out, internally cursing herself for the sudden bashfulness she felt. Moments ago she was literally grinding against him with the full intention of letting him in her knickers, yet she couldn't even say they were snogging? What the hell was wrong with her!

"Snogging?" Draco supplied, his voice deadpanned as he tightened the windsor knot up to the base of his throat.

"...Yes," Hermione squeaked, a deep crimson blush blossoming over her cheeks.

"I am very aware of what we were just doing, Hermione, seeing as I actively participated in it." His hand rose, smoothing out the wrinkles in his tie before he carefully adjusted the waistband of his trousers, tucking in some of his shirt that had come untucked. "However, snogging you, as fantastic as it was, does not negate that I have things to do."

Hermione let her eyes drop to the floor. If his intention was to confuse her further then clearly he was succeeding. He was reserved again, withdrawn, but in the same breath admitted that snogging her was 'fantastic'. Yet he was still running away, wanting to leave the room because 'he had things to do'. Why couldn't she be on his 'to-do' list? Better yet, why was she so desperate to be? How in the world was she supposed to make any sense of this? "Oh?...okay."

Draco gave a small noise in approval as he nodded his head and turned his back to head once more so he could close the distance between where he stood in the middle of the room and the heavy door that lead to the hallway. He knew this was risky, leaving her in such a state, but he knew if he spent a second longer in the classroom, where the air was thick with lust and everything smelt of her, that he would not be able to control himself. He had a plan, but it seemed that was out the window. He needed to regroup. To gather his bearings and determine how the bloody hell this was supposed to work.

He could hear her move back to the wall he had just pressed her up against, her small defeated breath echoing around the room as his hand curled around the brass doorknob and his eyes cast down to her bookbag on the floor and he paused, the visual reminding him of a plan he had made only the night before with her. He really shouldn't… not at that kiss… "I'll meet you on the seventh floor at eight."

"Excuse me?" Hermione glanced up from where she had let her eyes fall to the floor to look at the back of him, clearly taken aback by his statement.

Draco closed his eyes tight, his brow pinching as he bit the inside of his cheek to curb the internal war that was raging inside of him. "Our revision…eight-o'clock...seventh floor."

Of course, how could she forget! He still wanted to revise? Even ending whatever the hell this was so abruptly? Hope fluttered in the pit of her stomach, causing her spine to straighten a fraction of an inch as she watched him take several deep breaths, his shoulders betraying the growing silence from him. "Eight...seventh floor," Hermione confirmed, her teeth capturing her bottom lip.

He waited a moment, his grip tightening on the cold brass handle as he fought back the urge to move back across the room and collect her in his arms once more with a feverish kiss. It wasn't going to do either of them good in this moment, giving into this desire. No, he needed another plan. A better one. One were he could navigate the murky waters of whatever this was between them safely. Just as he pulled the door open a fraction of an inch, he chanced a glance over his shoulder to her, watching as she took a sharp intake of breath when their vision connected. She was leaning against the wall, her hands fiddling with the hem of her skirt. "Hermione…"

"...yes," She returned breathlessly, brown eyes flickering between his mouth and his gray irises, noting how his pupils were still blown and his lips were red and kiss-swollen still. Some strange place inside her swelled with a foreign sense of pride, knowing she was the cause for his appearance. Normally so composed and professional, everything about him right now was just slightly off.

Draco's eyes ran her figure, running from the top of her wild mane to the toes of her sensible shoes before he allowed himself to look back at her face. "Don't wear that uniform." And with that he moved out into the hallway, letting the heavy door swing shut behind him.


	8. We Did a Bad Thing

* * *

Terrible Things

* * *

Hermione's belly coiled with nervous anticipation as she stood with her back against the rough hewn stones of the seventh floor corridor. When Draco walked out of the classroom earlier her mind had been so fuzzy. The combination of the kiss, his hands on her skin, it was intoxicating. His kiss was like the best drug she'd ever taken. It immediately emptied her mind, stole her breath and left her wanting more. The difference was that when she finally came off this particular high, she wasn't left strung out. No, she was left very fucking confused and slightly upset.

He kept doing this. Snogging her until her knees were weak and running off just as things crossed over some invisible line she was not attuned to. In all honesty these two very different versions of Draco she was becoming acquainted with were beginning to give her whiplash from his back and forth. She was unsure about which one she would encounter each time they stumbled upon one another. The one that ignored her or the one who left her breathless.

Which was why when she reached her dormitory after that kiss she decided she was going to tell him what was what! She was not some trollop he could snog whenever he felt like, and better yet, he really ought to start asking permission before kissing her. Just because she was newly single did not mean he had free reign to steal kisses in darkened classrooms or empty common rooms. Although, she would be the first to admit the lip locks they did share were far from disappointing. But no matter how good of a snog Draco was, she was not going to let him walk all over her feelings. It was bad enough being Ron's second priority. She was never going to allow herself to be second to anyone or anything ever again. At least not in that department

This fire to tell him how she felt was beginning to diminish though. She was normally so opinionated, so full of conviction and ready to take on whatever force was against her. She was intelligent, smart, self-possessed even, until he was nearby. And then, suddenly it changed. She doubted herself, she felt self conscious for the first time since third year. She was Hermione Fucking Granger, The Golden Girl, one third of The Golden Trio, The Brightest Witch of Her Age! She had faced far worse foes than a pretty blonde wizard with a sharp tongue and a sweet mouth. The fact still remained the same though: she was completely, unequivocally nervous about whatever would happen during this little meetup Draco proposed.

When the chime of the clock tower striking eight rang through the hallway, the baby fine hairs on the back of her neck rose in response, and her stomach let out a low rumble in nervous protest. Hermione closed her eyes as she leaned her head back on the cool stone wall, her fingers smoothing out the bottom hem of her shirt against her abdomen as she took a stuttered breath in her final attempt to calm her nerves long enough so she could tell him exactly how she felt.

* * *

Draco's eyes were fixed on the crackling fire as he leaned back on the sette, the fingers of his left hand tapping idly against one of the inset buttons on the furniture. He had been there since nearly two in the afternoon and was growing restless despite the much needed break from his friends. He had tried to gather his thoughts on Hermione and what this energy between them meant, but Blaise and Theo found him immediately. Like a niffler to gold, those two always managed to find him at the most inconvenient times. Even with the curtains drawn around his bed, Theo had wasted no time in throwing them open, and he began what felt like rapid fire questioning about what happened between him and Granger after they left the classroom.

Draco had felt less inclined to divulge how he freaked out and left the classroom when he figured out these things that had begun to stir inside him were actually feelings for the curly haired swot. He didn't want to just shag her, although that was most certainly a card he intended on putting into play. He wanted her completely. Her devotion, her attention, and her- dare he say it- affection. The idea felt foreign, and it scared him more than he wanted to admit. He feared that if he dipped his toe in those waters, he might not ever find his way out again.

Which was why he had run, yet again. With no word beyond a locking spell to trap his friends in the dormitory room, Draco retreated to the come and go room. It was the only damn place in this castle he could find a moment of reprieve. One without any questions, one without pestering friends, and most importantly, one with Hermione Granger.

He had no intention of turning the room into this. He had just been looking for a place to hang his hat, so to speak, while he collected himself before meeting with her to study. Nevermind he had forgotten his fucking books in his haste to leave the dorm. He had to at least appear as if his intentions tonight were not nefarious, right? Of course, it made that slightly harder considering he was sitting in an exact replica of his bedroom at the Manor.

A large four poster bed made of deep cherry wood, gray linens embroidered with intricate swirls of filigree sat against the far wall flanked by two nightstands with large glass lamps. To the left of the room a three person sette made of cream fabric with clawed feet that matched a small table in front of it before a crackling fire. To the right a small set of table and chairs in the corner. The only thing that gave away that this place was not home was the fact that there were no windows overing looking the grounds, and there were no stacks of books taken from the Manor's library to occupy his mind during the long breaks on the tables.

The room was enchanted to give the requester what they wanted, and at the time he had asked for a room to think. This certainly fit the bill better than any empty classroom could, for immediately upon entry it was as if a weight had been taken off his shoulders. And for the first time in what felt like weeks, he felt as if he could actually begin to process what was happening.

The why would forever be unknown, because according to Draco there really was no logical reason for these feelings for Hermione. She was smart, sure, but so were other witches that went to school with them. Cho, Tracey, or even Padma...or was it Parvati? He could never tell them apart, but it did not make a lick of difference. They had all been at the top of their grade, and would have been better choices for his desire. It certainly wasn't her blood status. That particular trait was actually at the top of his list of why he should not want to be with her. But there was this unexplainable magnetism he felt. He had managed to keep it at bay, using her relationship with that pathetic excuse for a wizard as a reason to keep his distance, but when she mentioned they were on the outs that night, all of the logical reasons to not be attracted to her vanished.

She was single, he was single…and they were stuck in this drafty castle for the next five months. Why shouldn't they have fun? Dating was obviously out of the question. His mother already had a five year plan laid out for his social life upon graduation. From what he could gather it involved one of the Greengrass sisters and the emerald Malfoy ring. It did not take a private detective to know that Narcissa was going to use marriage as a means to repair the Malfoy reputation, but what his mother did not know was he was planning on delaying that fate for as long as possible. This had nothing to do with Granger, of course, but rather it was simply one of the things he could actually control in his life. There was never a question of who he was going to marry, for arranged marriages between Purebloods were not exactly a secret, now were they? But when... that was something completely up to him.

But even knowing his fate at some point would leave him betrothed to someone else, he couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach at the idea of Hermione with someone else, or worse- back in the arms of that red-headed shit. He didn't deserve her, hell, no one did. Not even himself.

When the clocktower chimed eight the room shook with each gong of the heavy bell, pulling him from his wandering thoughts and he took one look around as if to make sure the room was perfect. Lifting his wand from the seat of the sette, he snapped it towards a crystal pitcher that sat on top of the table against the opposite wall and it began to fill with water. The nonverbal spell was one of the first he had ever learned. It wasn't fancy, or a particularly useful spell considering he had just spent the last two years in the midst of a war, but it had come in handy when Voldemort had been living in his house. The less he had to leave his room, the better his day had generally gone back then. Of course, that rule had never been steadfast. His life had been so fucking unpredictable then.

His loafers sank into the soft carpeting as he moved across the room, each step he took towards the door cause his heartbeat to increase in tempo. Would she be there already? Should he wait two more minutes to give her time? Who the hell was he kidding, Granger was the most punctual person he had ever met. If he opened the door and found the hallway empty, it was because she did not have any intention of meeting up. And while the possibility was there, he prayed it would not happen.

His right hand went out to brace himself on the wall as he curled his left hand around the cold brass doorknob. With a slow twist and push, the heavy oak door opened silently into the cold seventh floor corridor. He leaned forward, just enough to allow his head past the threshold of the come and go room's door and he looked to the right. For a moment his heart sank when the witch he was beginning to come to think of as his did not appear, but when he looked to the left and spotted her leaning against the wall further down, closer to the staircase, and he had to bite his bottom lip to prevent himself from letting out a sigh of relief.

Silver eyes ran over her figure, and a smug smirk fell over his lips when he noted her change in attire. A black velvet skirt with thick silver buttons that ran the center, gray tights and a deep forest green jumper that he had seen her wear only on a small handful of occasions. How could he not notice it? It was probably one of the better things she wore. The way it clung to her curves, and that color did wonders with her complexion. Who would have ever guessed the Gryffindor princess looked so damn good in green? Clearing his throat, Draco took a single step outside of the come and go room, his hand sliding up the soft wood of the door to hold it open as he leaned against it. "Evening."

Hermione's head shot up at his greeting, her fingers ceasing their toying of the hem of her skirt and she straightened up instantly. His blond fringe swept across his forehead in a way that made her desperate to reach out and correct it. And that smirk. Fuck, it should be illegal to look so damn good all the time. This was why exactly she lost her thoughts around him. Maybe if she wore a blindfold she might be able to actually remember she was supposed to be upset. Her right hand lifted and a small wave was given to the wizard as her teeth bit on her bottom lip nervously. "Hi."

Draco let out a breathy chuckle and he lifted his own have a return wave before cocking his head to the side when she made no move toward him. "You planning on studying out here?" Draco questioned.

Studying? Oh shit! They were supposed to be studying right? That was the whole damn point of this little meetup. Internally cursing herself, Hermione pushed off the wall and took a tentative step toward Draco, the leather soles of her flats muffling her foot falls against the stone floor. "I uh… I forgot we were studying. I left my books in my trunk."

Draco nodded, his index finger tapping against the wooden door as he watched her move across the hallway toward him at a pace that was reminiscent of a timid cat. He watched a slow blush blossom across the apples of her cheeks at her admission of forgetting her books and it was hard to control the wave of pleasure he felt course through his veins. He had made her forget. Perhaps these feelings weren't one-sided after all. "That's very unlike you, Hermione. I've never known you to be a forgetful witch."

Hermione let her eyes move over Draco's shoulder and into the room, her curiosity piqued as to what he had requested from the room for their evening. Would it be a study? Perhaps a replica of the Slytherin common room or even their eighth year one? When he requested he meet on the seventh floor, she knew exactly where he was taking her. It wasn't like there were many options this high up in the castle, and she knew he had knowledge of this room. They had been in it together less than a year ago with Fiendfyre licking at their heels. She was honestly surprised it was still intact after the fire. She had not tried to come visit it, thinking it gone, but it looked like the magic of the castle was stronger than any teenage spellwork. "Well, you don't really know much about me. Do you?"

"No, but I'm fixing that problem. Aren't I?" Draco turned to press his back against the door, letting his body absorb the weight of the door as he let her walk into the room. His right hand moved, instinctively dropping to her lower back to help usher her across the threshold. The pads of his fingers slid across the jumper, letting the soft fabric roll beneath his touch as he let his hand drop a tad lower than socially acceptable down towards the swell of her arse.

Hermione's breath stalled in her lungs as an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. She prayed he wouldn't notice, but judging by his closeness she was sure it was hard to miss. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the expensive fabrics and the layout. This wasn't just a simple request, no this was some place familiar to him. Some place the room decided he needed. When her eyes fell on the large bed in the back of the room, she felt a large lump form in the middle of her throat. Morgana, this was forward of him, wasn't it? The soft blush on her cheeks burned deeper as she averted her eyes from it and took large hasty steps away from his lingering touch towards the fireplace. "I'm not so sure you are. Seeing as we have not done much talking as of late."

Draco let the door swing shut behind him, the snapping sound of the lock catching hanging ominously in the air as he watched her stand before the fire, her hands outstretched in front of the flame to warm them. He stood still, taking a moment to admire the way the flicker of the firelight danced across face, highlighting her curls to look like ribbons of carmel. From this distance he could make out the small smattering of freckles that ran across the bridge of her nose and over the high of her cheeks. Sun marks, as his mother would call them. Something that long ago would indicate if someone was from a lower status due to the amount of time spent outdoors. But now it seemed like a galaxy of stars, waiting for him to study and explore the rest of her hidden skin. It left him wanting to chart a map of every little blemish that she contained. She was perfect in every single way...stunning even. It took him a moment, but Draco tore his eyes away from Hermione and he lifted his hand to smooth the fringe of her hair back as he silently cursed himself. Merlin, he was in deep, wasn't he?

"What was your inspiration for this room?" Hermione questioned, breaking the heavy silence. Stealing a glance over her shoulder to the wizard, she lifted a single brow. "I'm fairly certain this is not somewhere in the castle…it looks far too modern."

"Ah. I almost forgot you already knew about the Come and Go Room," Draco remarked as he moved toward her, his hand pulling his wand from the pocket of his trousers, and he set it on the coffee table before taking a seat on one end of the settee.

Hermione turned around to face him, letting the warmth of the fire heat the back of her thighs. "Of course I knew about it," Hermione scoffed. "I do believe I had knowledge of its existence before you did," she pointed out, her tone borderline smug as she let her hands clasp in front of her waist.

Draco lifted his hand to his mouth, hiding his smile as he watched her ego inflate before his eyes. As if having knowledge of this room was some sort of competition she was winning. The joke was clearly on her though, seeing as she was currently in a near exact replica of his bedroom. "This was the room we caught you in fifth year, wasn't it?" Draco feigned ignorance, because of course he knew it was the Come and Go Room. Her little secret meetings in there actually clued him into the fact that it was not just a rumor. Draco let his eyes leave hers and he made a show of letting them travel across the room exaggeratedly as if to inspect it before he let them fall back to her, a playful twinkle swirling in his silver irises. "Hm... looks very different now. Less suits of armor and sweaty teenagers."

Hermione scoffed as she shook her head, and for the first time since he left her breathless in the classroom earlier that day, she let her guard down. It was moments like these, where Draco allowed himself to be a normal young adult instead of some brooding hier that made her realise what the draw was. Sure, he was pretty to look at. Any witch with a set of eyes could not deny the almost angelic beauty every single Malfoy possessed. Even Lucius, despite his hatred, bigotry and over all stuck up attitude, was quite striking in appearance. But it was beyond the surface level beauty. Draco was complex, like a book written in an ancient language waiting for the right person to stumble across him and help decipher what secrets lay inside. He was charming, and although still very much a prat, there was something more lingering there.

Moving around the table, Hermione sat down on the settee on the opposite side from Draco, careful to leave the middle cushion open as a buffer as she smoothed out the length of her velvet skirt against her thighs. "Whatever. Stop changing the subject to avoid my question," Hermione teased as she leaned back against the plush back of the furniture. "What was your inspiration for this room?"

"What? A wizard can't imagine a nice room to take a witch for the evening?" Draco returned with a sly smirk, knowing full well the purposeful avoidance was likely driving her mad with curiosity. He uncrossed his legs, carefully twisting his body so his back was against the high arm of the settee so he could face Hermione completely. When her chocolate brown eyes narrowed on him with silent warning to start talking, he lifted a hand in surrender. "This is a replica of my room back at the Manor."

"You requested your bedroom?" Hermione questioned curiously as her brows shot up in surprise, the knot in her stomach tightening at his response. "You couldn't think of anywhere more…suitable for studying?"

Draco gave her a lazy shrug as he lifted his arm to rest on the top of the settee, his fingers running across the seam of the fabric absentmindedly. "When I arrived I was not looking for a place to study," he confessed. "I was just looking for a place where I could be alone and that was conducive to well-formulated thought."

Hermione waited, her brow knitting together with anticipation for him to continue, but when it was obvious Draco was making no move to further explain his solitude she let out a small sigh and lifted her palm toward him. "Well… What did you need to escape people to think about?"

Draco's eyes immediately fell from Hermione's at the question. It wasn't shame, but some part of him didn't know if he was going to be able to tell her the truth if he held her stare. His tongue swept across his suddenly dry lips in silent preparation. "It should come to no surprise, but… well… you."

It was forward, but no worse than snogging her senseless in an abandoned classroom, right? Hermione's teeth sank into her bottom lip, chewing on the flesh thoughtfully as she watched him take a sudden keen interest on the weft of the fabric on the settee. "...Why?"

Draco laughed, and it was not warm and fluttering with playfulness like earlier. Nor was it hollow and bitter, like it tended to be when in more difficult situations. It was almost as if he was releasing some of the pent up energy that had been building since she walked with him into this room. Silver eyes lifted to find Hermione's and his breath hitched in his throat when he noticed she was involuntarily leaning into the middle of the couch, closer to him. He could not help but notice how easy would it be for him to reach across and pull her to him, and as the ideas of what would follow if he acted on his impulse played behind his eyes, the beautiful silver to turn molten with lust. "Because whenever I'm around you anymore, Hermione, I find it nearly impossible to form logical thought." His breath was a hint of a whisper, lingering between them with the weight of the world hanging in the balance. As if he spoke too loud it might break this small moment they were sharing. "I needed a place to think free of outside opinion so I could get a plan in order as to how I was going to spend this evening with you without acting so rash."

The knot forming in her stomach had clearly risen to her throat as their eyes connected, and a pool of heat began to form between her thighs. She heard his words, but they seemed to linger on the surface as the synapses of her brain misfired at his confession. He found it impossible to think around her?! What the bloody hell did he think he was doing to her with all this hot and cold? "And h-how is that… plan working out for you?"

Draco's eyes dropped to Hermione's lips, watching the way her teeth pulled and plucked at her plump bottom lip. Suddenly, his carefully constructed plan of talking to her and figuring out what this thing was between them sounded like shit. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to give in to his impulses. He wanted nothing more than to turn off his brain and just do what felt bloody right. And for the first time in a long time, he realised nothing was going to stop him from doing just that. "It's failing miserably, because all I want to do is this."

It was as if the world moved in slow motion. Hermione's eyes tracked his movement, watching as Draco reached across the small settee towards her. There was no time to react, or even consider the promise she made herself about not doing this without them having a rational discussion like adults. They were adults, right? A shiver ran down her spine when his fingertips brushed across her cheek, causing goosebumps to line her arms despite her thick jumper, and when he sunk his fingers into the side of her hair, she complied with his light tug as he pulled her towards him. Talking could come later. Talking seemed like a lot of fucking work right now considering how much fun snogging was.

Draco met her halfway across the middle cushion, his left hand moving to rest on her hip as he pulled her body flush against his. The combination of her lips parting to give a soft sigh in pleasure and the weight of her body pressed close to his made all rational thought flee his mind. Instead the only thing on his mind was a steely determination to get her to make as many of those sweet little noises as possible. His head tilted to the side, slanting his mouth across hers as he parted his lips to sweep his tongue across hers.

Hermione's hands lifted to Draco's chest, sliding over the crisp oxford shirt to rest on his shoulders as she bent to his will. Her tongue moved with his, her body bending to his will as he slowly pulled her until she was straddling his lap. Her velvet skirt was tight against her thighs, bunching just slightly as she pressed herself forward until she felt her core seat directly against his hips.

The kiss was so different from the rest, because on a chemical level they both knew there was no stopping them this time. Draco's touch seemed charged, igniting the smoldering embers between them into a blazing inferno. Each stroke of his fingers felt purposeful, like he knew exactly what he was doing and how he wanted her. When his hands dropped to her thighs, his nails scratching lightly against her thick tights, a shiver ran down her spine, causing her lips to slip from his as a soft whimper was released.

Draco, ever the opportunist, used the breaking of their kiss to lean down and sample the skin of her neck. His right hand rose and he snaked his fingers in the back of her hair and with a gentle tug, encouraged her head to fall back, giving him full access to her throat. Leaning forward, Draco began placing open-mouthed kisses beginning on the top of her throat and working his way down until he met the resistance of her jumper.

Unwinding his fingers from her curls, Draco's hands moved to the bottom of her jumper, slipping his fingertips just under the hemline, and he touched the soft skin on her sides cautiously. He wanted nothing more than to strip her of these damn constricting clothes, but he knew if he did not give her a chance to say otherwise, he would regret it. He knew she deserved better, someone whose name did not carry a dark legacy, but fuck it if in this moment it all seemed to push itself into the dark recesses of his mind.

Hermione looked down, watching the conflict in Draco's eyes swirl like molten silver. The pads of his fingers ignited her skin, leaving hot trails in their path as he began to move his hands up her sides at a torturous pace. Her hands moved from his shoulders, sliding across his well-defined chest as they dropped between their bodies. She curled her fingers around the bottom of her jumper and in one swift motion the forest green top fell to the floor unceremoniously.

She watched as Draco inhaled sharply, his hands frozen on her hips as his eyes trailed down from her neck to look at the lacy black bra she had selected for tonight. She wasn't exactly planning on this, but it was better to be prepared, wasn't it? She watched his adam's apple bob as he took in her skin, his eyes running over the large scar on her side that Dolohov had left. It was pink, and iridescent, like new skin after it had been kissed by flame. Under normal circumstances she might feel self-conscious due to her blemishes. Hell, the first time things progressed past over the clothes touching Ronald she had barely allowed him to take off her top, but for some reason she held no fear when Draco was seeing her scars. Perhaps it was because she knew that underneath his oxford he held his own scars from a past they were both trying to escape.

Hermione reached back with both hands to the clasp of her bra, her back arching ever so slightly as she began to fiddle with the clasps, but suddenly Draco's right hand rose to her forearm, his long fingers curling around her, causing her to cease her movement.

"Hermione," Draco breathed, molten silver eyes flickering between her lace-covered breasts and her face several times as what remained of his rational thought tried to override his desire to see what lay beneath. "You don't...we don't-"

Hermione tilted her head to the side and the slightest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I know," she returned, her voice barely avoid a whisper. "But I want to." It felt so amazing to not be in control. To give in to her feelings, as opposed to calculated thought. She had spent seven years fighting one of the most powerful dark wizards that had ever lived. She had never so much as once allowed herself the freedom to be a normal teenager who acted impulsively. And dammit, for once she wanted to just do that. Whatever this was between her and Draco made zero sense. How could it? But it felt so bloody right that she was willing to overlook the large glaring red flags that lined the path that lead her directly into his arms.

With a small shrug, she loosened his grip on her arm and unclasped the back of her bra. She let the straps fall down her shoulders as her hands moved to shimmy the sheer fabric down her body before she let it drop on the couch next to them.

Draco gulped, the large lump in his throat preventing him from doing anything as he watched her in what felt like slow motion. This is what he had been pining after for so bloody long, and now here she was. Literally sitting in his lap, topless, and the only thing he could manage to do was stare. He wasn't sure if he was more disappointed in himself for his lack of action, or because he was giving in to desires he knew would only cause him misery in the end. His lips parted with heavy breath, and when Hermione leaned forward and began to unbutton his oxford, his eyes dropped from her figure to watch her fingers make quick work of the row of buttons.

Hermione's hands trembled as she reached the last button on his shirt, careful to avoid the obvious bulge in his trousers. Peeling open his shirt, she revealed a milky white torso. He was fit, that was no surprise as she could make out the outline of his lithe muscles in his clothing, but what she did not expect was to see how well-defined he was. Thin ropes of muscles defined his abdomen and chest, and on the surface a shimmering white scar bisected his torso. Sectumsempra. She had only heard second hand how the spell cut across his body; seeing it in person did no justice to the stories she heard. Her right hand rose and she carefully traced the trail of scars up his body.

Draco shivered at her touch, but dared not utter a word to stop her. When he felt her fingers dance along the edge of his scar near his collarbone he reached up to cup her cheek and pull her eyes to his. Her pupils were blown; so little brown was left in them they appeared almost black in the soft flickering light of the fire. Leaning forward, he brought her mouth to his once more in a searing kiss. His right hand moved to her back, stroking softly against her spine until he let his fingers dip just below the hem of her skirt and tights to rest on her lower back, and he pushed her into his body more until she was seated directly on his swollen cock.

Hermione gasped into Draco's mouth. Her hands paused their disrobing of the wizard as she rocked her hips forward, grinding her core against his length with a slow roll of her hips that seemed to drag out his own little noise of pleasure from his throat. She could feel him on the edge, teetering on the brink of self control, and with only a few more rolls of her hips and a single whimper of his name did she finally manage to tip him over.

Draco's hands dropped to the bottom hem of her skirt and he yanked the fabric up until it pooled around her waist like a belt, leaving only the thick tights in between himself and where he wanted to be. His nails scratched against the thick material on her bum as his mouth moved from her lips and down across her shoulder. His tongue darted out, running the length of the thin scar that lay there before doubling back to place soft kisses along the length. As if apologizing for its existence and his role in it becoming a permanent fixture on her skin.

"Hermione," Draco mumbled against her skin, his hips rising up off the couch as they worked in a slow and steady rhythm that he was positive he would not be able to maintain if he found himself inside her body. "Are you… Fond of these...tights?" he grumbled against her skin before he tugged on the last piece of resistance that kept her body from his.

Her mind swirled; she could hear his question, but she wasn't sure if she could answer properly. Of course she liked the tights, but at this point he could rip them to shreds and she would probably help right along because the idea of getting off of his lap to rid herself of them seemed like far too daunting a task. Her head shook no, and she pulled back to look down at him, her eyes glassy with desire.

The trademark Malfoy smirk fell over his lips as he noted the almost drunk look Hermione held. With his ego sufficiently stroked, Draco snatched his wand from the couch cushion next to him. He held the wand steady as his other hand gathered as much of the knit tights away from the skin on her rump as he could before he pressed the tip of his wand into the gray fabric. " _Evanesco."_

It was such a handy spell; he would be sure to figure out who invented it and send their heirs his many thanks. Tossing his wand onto the coffee table in front of them, the hawthorne clattered noisily as it rolled on the glass tabletop. His hands moved back to her skin, carving a path up the backs of her thighs. Determined and unforgiving, they roamed across her skin and over the bare globes of her arse.

Hermione tilted Draco's head back with a well-placed hand on his jaw so their mouths could find each other once more in a breath-stealing kiss. It provided the courage she needed to drop her hands between their bodies and unbuckle and lower the zip of his trousers. Her right hand slowly eased his cock from his trousers, her fingers dancing across the velvet softness of his shaft, causing him to hiss a soft string of curses into her mouth.

Draco broke the kiss, his forehead pressing against hers as he looked down, molten silver eyes watching her stroke him with a slow bravado that left his mouth dry. He had been with plenty of witches, but there was something about the confidence she possessed in the moment that left him in awe. Fucking Gryffindors. If he had known getting her into the sack would have been this fun, he would not have waited so bloody long.

Pulling back from their kiss, Draco leaned back into the sette until his head rested on the soft fabric. His hands moved off her hips and took both of her wrists and guided her hands to rest on the top of the settee before they dropped to her hips and tilted them to give him the access he needed.

Hermione's thighs trembled. Whether it was due to being perched in his lap for so long, or because of the anticipation for what was about to come, she could not be certain. Her fingernails scratched at the soft cream fabric that lay beneath them when she felt his cock brush against her folds, and a soft moan of his name slipped from her lips.

That was the only encouragement Draco needed in the moment. With one hand on her hip and the other holding himself steady, he guided the witch down onto his cock. If he was not determined to watch every little noise she made leave her mouth, Draco eyes might have rolled to the back of his head as her heat enveloped him. His fingers pressed bruisingly against her hip bones as Hermione took advantage of her leverage and began to rock her hips above his.

Hermione's head fell to the side, her eyes closed as the fissures of bliss worked their way through her body. Rising up on her knees, she worked in an exploratory rhythm. His name was hummed from her lips, her chest heaving with unsteady breath. The pace she set was slow and lazy, twisting her hips until his cock brushed against just the right spot, which caused her mews of pleasure to transform into louder moans.

One of his hands stayed on her hip, encouraging her faster as she seemed to find a favored spot, while his left hand moved between their bodies and he pressed two fingers to her cunt, finding her clit and he nestled the hardened pleasure spot between the valley of his fingers. With slow deliberate circles, he had her chanting his name as she edged them both closer to the edge of what he was certain would be his literal and proverbial undoing. He had a taste now, and he was positive he would never be able to give up this feeling.

Hermione could feel that delicious coil build up in her gut, twisting and twisting until it felt like there was nothing left to do but snap, and as her body began to tremble in preparation for tumbling towards oblivion, Draco lifted his hand from her hip and captured her lips in a final kiss. His touch felt charged, his kiss sinking electricity into her bloodstream, and it traveled straight to her core, making her gasp as she tumbled head first into bliss.

Draco growled as he felt her walls flutter around his cock, and despite wanting this moment to last for longer, her orgasm ripped his own from his body and his seed was emptied deep inside her fluttering cunt. His arms moved to curl around her body and he eased her onto his chest. Her curls clung to the thin layer of sweat that covered his torso as he slowly lowered them both to lay prone on the couch, his cock still buried deep inside her.

Draco's eyes drifted closed, listening to their combined heavy breath echo off the barren walls around them. The pressure of her body laying on his felt soothing, like being wrapped tightly in a blanket as a small child. It exorcised the demons inside him to lay at bay as his mind cleared. It wasn't just the sex that was giving him this euphoric state. It was her. Everything about her.

Some people are born with tornadoes in their lives, but constellations in their eyes. Other people are born with stars at their feet, but their souls are lost at sea. Draco knew he was the latter. From an early age he had felt lost, without a clear direction of where to go other than knowing the basics that would make his parents proud, but as he lay still beneath the woman he was supposed to loathe, he realised she just might be the compass he needed to weather the storm and find his way.

His fingers ran the length of her spine in time with her breath until it returned to a normal rhythm. Cracking his eyes open, he looked down at the witch in his arms, a small smile falling into place as he watched her nuzzle against his chest.

* * *

His heartbeat tattooed the side of her face as she listened to the steady thump of his heartbeat. She had not looked at him since he pulled them down onto the couch, and she was not sure she was ready to face the reality behind what they had done. In the moment, there had been no room to think of Harry, Ron or how utterly wrong it should feel. She could only focus on them, and the electric current that ran between their bodies. But now that it was over, there was an unmistakable feeling of guilt. Not because of what they had done, but rather that she had allowed it to happen when she promised herself it would not. At least not until they spoke. It seemed like every time she was around the wizard, all reason vanished and she was left operating on the most primal of levels.

She felt Draco's finger travel up her spine a final time before he gathered her curls that were sprayed across his chest, and he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head before gently rolling her from his body as he withdrew his softening cock from her core. He moved silently, sitting up on the couch; he shimmied his trousers back over his hips and he buckled them into place before he rose. Hermione felt frozen, paralyzed by a slow building rage as she watched him slip his oxford from his shoulders and let it fall to the couch next to her before he moved across the room, not even glancing in her direction.

What the hell was he doing? Sitting up, Hermione snatched at the black button down and she pulled it on quickly before holding the garment closed with one fist as she pushed herself up onto her knees and spun on the settee so she could track him across the room. Brown eyes flickered ahead of him and she couldn't help but notice that his path was leading almost directly towards the door that lead out to the hallway and her heart stuttered. "If you're planning on running out of here, just know this will never...ever happen again," she said, quickly gathering every ounce of courage she held.

Draco paused his retreat, his brow knitting at her words, and he glanced over his shoulder to the witch. "Excuse me?"

"Y-You've been snogging me and running off for a couple of weeks now...and...and I'm not going to allow it to happen any more," Hermione began as she moved off of the settee, her bare feet padding softly against the cold tile floor as she moved around the furniture. "Especially after what just happened. You either want this...or you don't. If you need to figure out your feelings first, then you can do so without dragging me into the middle of your inner turmoil."

Draco's brows lifted at her words and his face slowly cracked into an amused smile as he gave the overly confident witch a slow nod of his head. "I was just going to fetch up some water…" his voice trailed off as he motioned behind him towards the pitcher set perched on the small table in the corner. "But I thank you for your candor, Hermione. Even if it is poorly timed."

"O-Oh…" Hermione's cheeks blazed red and she glanced surreptitiously down at her feet. Crap. Well. What was said was the truth, she would never argue that, but she could had delivered it a bit better considering the circumstances.

Draco chuckled from across the room, and he turned to continue his path, this time not letting silence fill the void between them. "But," he began. "You do bring up a good point," he conceded as he grabbed the small tray and made his way across the room to the settee. Sitting down he grabbed his wand and filled the pitcher before pouring two glasses of water. "I have been confused lately. Our friendship is new and brought up many complexities that I was not prepared to deal with."

Hermione moved next to him, this time sitting on the middle cushion as opposed to using it as a barrier, and as she turned to face him, their knees brushed. "Friendship?" she questioned incredulously. "You think I shag my friends? Draco this isn't-"

"Well you made it abundantly clear you had not shagged Weasel or Pot Head," Draco interrupted. "So no. I suppose friendship was a poor choice of words."

"I never said anything about not shagging Harry," Hermione added, her tongue darting out moisten her lips and she watched as Draco's face began to morph from casually cool to shocked as her words sunk in. She was not one to kiss and tell...or in this case shag and tell, but considering what she had just done with Draco, it only felt right. She had learned from the limited sexual education that Hogwarts provided that you were supposed to be open with your partners about who you had been intimate with in the past. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to find Ginny in the hallway and spill her secret. "Wait...did you think I was a virgin, Draco?"

"You said you didn't have time to...because of the war."

"I said I didn't have time to date. Not that I had never," Hermione corrected, her hand lifting to smother her smile as she watched him process her words. "War makes you do… Things you would have never thought possible. It presents opportunities that would never come about under normal circumstances. We didn't…" Hermione paused and a heavy sigh left her lungs as she grabbed a glass of water from the table and she took a small sip. Using the small moment to gather her thoughts. "We didn't think we were going to make it out of the war. It wasn't romantic. I've never seen him that way, so perhaps it was a bit foolish... But…" All she could offer was a small shrug when she looked back up to Draco once more.

It was like she could see the cogs spinning in the deep recesses of his mind, trying to process one of the secrets from her past. He was looking at her… no through her as he tried to catch up to speed. Reaching out, Hermione laid a hand on his knee, effectively pulling the wizard from his thoughts. "But, yes. Friendship is a poor choice of word. I don't… just shag people, Draco."

* * *

Draco nodded, his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek. Of course she wasn't a virgin! If she was, he highly doubted their first time together would have resulted in couch sex in the Come and Go Room, but the fact that…that Potter was her first was mind boggling on many levels. The first of which being that the dunderhead actually had any sort of ability to get into a witch's knickers was fucking flabbergasting, let alone Hermione Granger's.

The topic of how her and Harry 'came to happen' without any sort of romance was one they would most certainly need to revisit later. As well as finding out what exactly she had and had not done because at this point he was determined to make sure he had her first in at least one area. Right now, he needed to focus on the task at hand. He didn't ask her here with the expectation of shagging her (not that he would ever turn down the opportunity should it rise again), but rather he needed to tell her how he felt.

"Hermione, I...I like you," Draco breathed out as he captured her hand on his knee between both of his. "A lot...and I want to figure this out...whatever this is between us."

Hermione brought the glass of water to her lips and she gulped down two large mouthfuls before setting the cup on the table. "Oh...um...well I like you too, Draco," she admitted as she bit her bottom lip.

"I could tell." Draco's eyes watched her face, noting the hesitation that lingered there, and he felt his walls begin to rise. Had he read this wrong? She just told him she didn't shag just anyone, but here she was holding back. "But…" he supplied as he felt a lump begin to form in the pit of his stomach.

"But…I just broke up with Ron," Hermione returned, her eyes softening on Draco as she turned towards him more and reached out to lay her hand over his.

"And?" Draco questioned. First Potter, now Weasel. Merlin's saggy sack, what was up with her and her childhood friends! She broke up with him, therefore his existence should not even matter anymore.

"And if it comes out that I'm seeing you, how do you think he is going to take it?" Hermione sighed.

" I don't bloody care what he thinks, and neither should you. Weasel isn't really a concern of mine," Draco scoffed.

"He is my concern," Hermione defended. "He was my friend before we dated. He'll still be my friend for years to come."

Draco's jaw set as he watched her. Despite knowing it was the truth, he did not want to admit it. "He's a moron."

Hermione could not prevent the small tinkle of laughter that escaped her as she pushed her curls back from her face. "Yes. I won't argue that. But he is still my friend. And I want to be cautious of his feelings."

"What are you alluding to, Hermione?" Draco questioned, tongue pressing against his incisor as he looked skeptically at her. "You don't want to see me?

"What? No. Of course not," Hermione said quickly as she shook her head. "I care for Ron and Harry, but they are not going to run my life...I just think maybe- Maybe we can keep it discreet for a while. Just until I've had a chance to talk Harry and Ron."

Discrete...Did she just. No he must had misheard her. "You want...to keep this discreet?" he questioned as his head cocked to the side.

"Only until I've had a chance to talk to Harry and Ron...unless you're not okay with it, that is."

Merlin, how naive could this witch be? Of course it needed to be bloody discreet! For starters, there was the massive problem of him being a former Death Eater and her being a muggle born. Let's not forget his mother might have kittens if she found out. If the Prophet or Witch Weekly found out about them the headlines would likely do neither of them any favors. So yes, of course it needed to be fucking discreet. He wasn't going to run out and shout off the roof tops that he'd just let the Golden Girl of the trio ride him in a dimly lit room in the highlands. Hell, he likely was not even going to tell Blaise and Theo right away, because Circe only knew those two couldn't keep their mouths shut if their lives depended on it. So yes. Being discreet was going to be an absolute fucking must.

"I make no objections to keeping this...discreet, Hermione," Draco supplied, smirking at the witch as she released whatever tension she held with a heavy sigh.

"Okay… thank you." Hermione smiled, her eyes dropping to look at their intertwined fingers and she glanced up to him through her thick lashes. "So… we're dating then?"

Draco unwound his fingers from hers before leaning back on the settee, one arm draping over the back while he leaned on the arm, providing the witch ample space to scoot in close should she feel so inclined. "I mean… if we're keeping it discreet I wouldn't call it dating, but whatever you'd like to call it is fine," he mused.

Hermione tugged her oxford around her body more securely before she scooped across the settee and leaned against his body, her head resting on his chest as she curled her legs up behind her. "Well...what do you want to call it if it's not dating?"

Draco looked down, watching the curly haired witch snuggle up against his chest, and a twinge of hope sprang to life behind his chest. Perhaps this could work? It felt right. Having her here next to him. It might not be forever, something he was certain they were both aware of, but at least it could work for right now. Dropping his arm off the back of the settee, he draped it around her shoulders, his fingertips playing with the ends of her curls like he had done in class earlier that very day. "We're study partners…who happen to do our best thinking naked."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for the month long wait. I'm so sorry. The holiday's crept up on me and life got in the way.


End file.
